


Debts and Vengeance

by Kairyn



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asexual Jessamine, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Ex-Whaler Corvo, Gay Corvo, Low Chaos Daud (Dishonored), M/M, Past Corvo Attano/Jessamine Kaldwin, Past Fake/Pretend Relationship, Past Sexual Abuse, Pre-Royal Spymaster Daud, Slow Build, Struggling to Stay Low Chaos Corvo, Torture, Whaler Corvo Attano
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 11:55:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14810883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kairyn/pseuds/Kairyn
Summary: Daud's guilt leads him to acting sooner and more boldly than expected. Why should he play pawn and let Attano rot when he doesn't have to? Not to mention he hates this gnawing guilt when he thinks about the man's fate.Daud has lost his taste for killing, Corvo struggles with his own thirst for bloody vengeance, and The Outsider is, of course,fascinated.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Someone, talk sense into me, please! The last thing I need is another story sitting on my page without a check mark... sigh.
> 
> Anyway, this could be seen as a continuation of my other story The Littlest Whaler, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to go that route so I'm leaving it unconnected. If anyone wants this to be a sequel to that let me know and I'll make it so (and add in the explanation as to how it's even possible)

Corvo had been to Coldridge Prison before -for business- but he had never particularly liked the place. He took issue with certain facets of how the prison was run, but since that was out of his purview as Royal Protector, he hadn't raised much fuss about things. The Royal Spymaster had more to do with the prisons than Corvo did, and that was only because he was in charge of any and all interrogations that happened within the walls. Corvo wished he had raised more of a protest then he had, as soon as he saw the walls of Coldridge looming up in front of him. Yes, Corvo hadn't liked going to Coldridge as Royal Protector but seeing it while he was in shackles and knowing he was now somehow on the opposite side of things, sent shivers of fear down his spine.

The guards sneered at him as he was dragged into the prison, but Corvo had a well-deserved reputation for being as stoic as they came. A few nasty faces sent his direction hardly bothered him. He'd be a poor protector if that set him off. Of course... it turned out he was a poor protector anyway. A painful wrenching in his chest made his eyes water, but he blinked the tears away. The blood on his hands from where he'd tried to stem what was flowing from Jessamine's body itched, and he wished he had the time and range of movement to clean it off.

More than a few insults and jeers were thrown at him as he was brought through the familiar entrance hall. The guards seemed to have found a game in trying to make him fall, but Corvo only allowed himself a few stumbles despite the rough handling. They took him to a fully tiled room with a massive drain bolted to the slightly sloped floor. A dozen guns were pointed at him as one officer undid his cuffs. Corvo thought about lashing out, but he wasn't foolish enough to actually do it. There were far too many guns on him.

Two more guards came at him, and Corvo couldn't help the way he struggled to escape their grasp on his coat. There was shouting, and a few more guards hurried to assist the first couple. Corvo elbowed one in the face and was repaid with the butt of a rifle to the back of his head. Hard. 

Corvo's head was still ringing from the first hard blow he'd taken at the palace, so another sent him collapsing to the floor like Emily's beloved Mrs. Pilsen doll. Everything was black and painful.

When Corvo came back to consciousness, it was because steaming hot water was beating his face and chest. Corvo sputtered and coughed to try and breathe even as he tried to turn away. The water was hitting him like dozens of fat bullets. Try as he might, Corvo couldn't actually turn away from the never-ending stream. His arms were chained above his head, and he didn't have enough slack to bend enough to either side. Corvo dropped his head to try and give himself a pocket of air even as he continued to hack and sputter. 

The hose moved down Corvo's bare torso, and he couldn't help the noise of pain as the high-pressure stream hit some of the bruises that he'd gotten from the fight at the gazebo. His half-stifled sound caught the attention of the guards to let them know he was fully awake again. The water hit him full blast in the face, and Corvo found himself trying desperately to find air again and only partially succeeding.

The punishing stream of water moved off enough for Corvo to gasp enough air to set him into a fit of coughing and gagging. The water he hadn't managed to avoid inhaling came up again painfully. The scalding hose continued to beat his body all over and Corvo grit his teeth against as much of the noise as he could. More than once the guards came back to blast Corvo in the face, seemingly amused by how it would nearly drown him each time. And then they would aim the stream at his exposed sensitive bits, and Corvo could barely resist crying out in pain. Corvo's body was screaming at the abuse, and he could practically feel the bruises forming under his skin that was turning red from how hot the water was.

Finally, with one last blast in the face, the guards finished. Corvo was struggling again to clear his lungs from the frankly foul-tasting water. Corvo was sure they'd pumped it straight from the river before heating it to scalding temperatures. Corvo hacked a few more times on the water even as the guards roughly grabbed him and finally undid the shackles that were holding him up.

The guards shoved nearly threadbare clothes at him despite the fact that Corvo was still sopping wet and disoriented. They, at least, let him dress himself, although the water was still running down him from the 'cleansing' that he knew had lasted longer and been rougher than it really should have been. His thin prison clothes were soaked through the instant he put them on and clung to his body uncomfortably, but at least Corvo wasn't nude any longer. 

The shackles were put on him again, and the guards nearly dragged him further into the prison. The water was still dripping from him, but the heat from it was already dissipating quickly. Corvo knew that before long he would be shivering from being wet in one of the cold, barren cells that filled the prison. Already the cold air was turning his skin to gooseflesh. 

Prisoners obviously recognized him and shouted as the guards led him past. Just being who he was meant that he wouldn't be popular here even before anyone heard what his accused crime was. Corvo kept his eyes focused dead ahead -even though he would love more than anything to lash out. He didn't belong here. He hadn't done anything. He'd tried to save her! He would have stepped in front of that sword without a second's hesitation! Corvo could never have hurt Jessamine. He needed to get free so that he could find Emily. Corvo couldn't leave her in danger. Even if he hadn't promised Jessamine to look after Emily, he couldn't possibly leave that amazing little girl to be in the hands of such villains. He would rather die. Somehow, Corvo had to convince someone that he hadn't done what he was being accused of. He had to get out.

Corvo was practically thrown into a cell, and the door slammed shut. Corvo laid there for a minute and just breathed. His lungs and throat still hurt from the dozen or so near drownings the guards had treated him to with the hose and Corvo's head was swimming from everything that had happened in so short a time. Slowly, Corvo pushed himself into a sitting position and looked around. The 'bed' was a slab of stone and the toilet- a Void awful smelling pit in the corner. There was nothing else but dirt and rock and a wall of metal bars. 

It was three days before Corvo was taken to his first interrogation. Those three days were miserable with horrible slop that the guards passed off as food and flashes of nightmares the few times he had actually managed to get some exhausted sleep. The whole cell was freezing and being dumped in it wet meant that Corvo was reasonably sure he had the beginnings of a cold. Not that he was expecting any sort of treatment for that.

In a way, the interrogation room was blessedly warm and the chair, although uncomfortable, was marginally better than hard stone. By the tiniest fraction of a percent. Corvo wasn't surprised to see Hiram was there as Corvo was strapped down into the chair. He knew that this whole mess was definitely something the Royal Spymaster would handle personally. Corvo was, however, slightly surprised that Hiram already had a confession written out and just wanted Corvo to sign it. Corvo hadn't liked how quickly Burrows had pointed the finger at him at the gazebo, but the business with a pre-prepared confession cemented Corvo's suspicions.

Corvo knew that Hiram didn't get along with Jessamine over certain things, but Corvo hadn't thought he'd go so far as to hire assassins. But clearly, he had. And he wanted Corvo to take the fall. Corvo wasn't going to give him anything. He didn't know how he was going to get out of this mess and save Emily, as the Royal Interrogator began to 'persuade' him, he swore that he would. Corvo felt his lip split and tasted blood, and he vowed it.

* * *

Corvo had no windows in his cell. He couldn't honestly tell how much time had passed by. He could guess based on the slop they served as meals, but that was inaccurate because sometimes he wasn't given a meal. Hiram was displeased that Corvo hadn't signed the confession and wanted to punish him.

Corvo sat on the slab that was his bed and stared at nothing. Half his face was swollen, and his stomach was grumbling in protest of the inconsistent and meager meals. Blood was staining his shirt from his own wounds. Distantly, he was aware of the other prisoners making a ruckus but ignored them. Instead, he strained his ears to just barely make out distant announcements from the other side of the river. He could only catch snippets when the noise of the prison faded slightly, but he wanted some news. The guards surely wouldn't provide it. All they ever provided was insults and beatings.

Pain clawed at Corvo's chest as he realized the current announcements were a live broadcast of Jessamine's funeral. Corvo tried to breathe through the pain, and it came out more like a gasp. He dropped his head to hang between his knees as he tried his best to not imagine it. Corvo knew it was true, but he didn't want to accept that. He wasn't ready to accept it. 

Jessamine had been so wonderful. Corvo adored her. Their relationship had been complicated, to say the least, but he treasured it. Corvo didn't particularly care for women on the whole, and so, he hadn't become her protector with any intention of even becoming friends, but she had been impossible to not love. She hadn't judged him for his low-class birth or his sometimes crass way of dealing with annoying nobles. Jessamine had appreciated his dry sense of humor and straightforward approach to problems, even if she couldn't always take his solutions for political reasons. Corvo had a tough life growing up, but Jessamine had made him feel like it had all been worth it since it gave him the skills to protect her. And then Emily. Oh, Gods, Emily. She was something that Corvo never thought he'd have. He would do anything for either of them, but all he could do was sit there and try his best to not cry. If he cried, the guards would no doubt take that as a sign to become worse. That he was weakening.

Corvo squared his jaw and fought against the knot in his throat. He could not show weakness. He just couldn't. Corvo swallowed hard even as the barely audible broadcast called for a moment of silence. 

His dark eyes were swimming in tears, but Corvo absolutely would not let them fall. The sudden realization that he wouldn't even get to say goodbye to her properly hit him only a moment later and Corvo lost the battle. He was glad his hair was long enough to mostly hide his face as the tears fell. At the very least he choked back the noise though he couldn't quite help the painful gasps that escaped. The pain in his body was nothing compared to the agony ripping at his chest.

* * *

Daud stared out at the flood water below him and brooded. Nothing had been going well since he had killed the Empress. His guilt was eating at him constantly, and the city was giving disturbing death rattles each day. But somehow, what was almost worse, was that his crimes were being attributed to someone else. The bodyguard had been instantly thrown into Coldridge by Burrows for murdering the Empress. 

Coldridge was a hard place to be, even for criminals who had been in other prisons before. Word was that Attano was keeping fervently to his innocence, which Daud knew would infuriate Burrows. His easy scapegoat was being difficult. Although that wouldn't stop him from carrying through with the already scheduled execution. Daud found the idea of the man being executed for his understandable inability to defend against five Outsider empowered assassins all by himself very unpleasant. The Knife of Dunwall already had enough nightmares about what he had done to the Empress and her little girl without adding the Royal Protector's blood to the debt.

By all accounts, the Empress had been doing nothing to warrant being killed. The people loved her, and she had made many policies that helped the lesser fortunate. She had dissenters of course. Every monarch did. But Daud could find little that would have made her assassination justified even in his mind. Her little girl had certainly done nothing wrong, and the Lord Protector had just been doing his job loyally. The whole situation soured his stomach and kept him up at night. 

Rain was falling steadily, and Daud watched the ripples running into each other constantly across the flood's surface. Attano wasn't even supposed to be there at the gazebo that day, but he had been. He'd returned from his trip early, and Daud hadn't been in the least bit pleased about it. The Royal Protector was more than a little handy with a sword and pistol. Three of Daud's men had been injured in the attack -one very severely. If they hadn't been who they were and powered by the Outsider, Daud doubted that the assassination would have been successful. Daud was impressed by the man even though he really shouldn't have been. Attano's skill with a sword was practically infamous after it came out that he had won the Blade Verbena at such a young age.

"Sir?"

Daud almost flinched at Thomas' voice but managed not to. He hadn't been paying attention to if someone was around him or not. Daud wasn't really concerned with such things lately. "What is it, Thomas?"

"Another message, Sir. From Burrows."

Daud's scowl darkened. "Burn it." He hadn't been taking any messages from the so-called Lord Regent after the last job. Burrows kept trying and was no doubt threatening them, but Daud had toughened their security against Overseers and called Burrow's bluff. Daud had been proven right as no sign of retaliation came. It was too little too late, however. The Empress was still dead, her daughter spirited away somewhere with the Pendleton twins, and the Lord Protector was rotting away in prison.

There was a long silence, and Daud could smell the smoke of the parchment and wax seal from the letter burning behind him. "... Attano's still maintaining his innocence, I heard," Thomas probed cautiously.

"Of course he is. He _is_ innocent," Daud pointed out without looking back.

"I'd have just thought he'd break by now," Thomas admitted. "Three months in prison is a lot for anyone."

Daud glanced over his shoulder at Thomas for a brief moment before inclining his head in agreement. Most nobility, when faced with hard time, crumbled in around a week. Two if they were stubborn. Corvo Attano, however, was no ordinary nobleman. He hadn't been born into it. He'd clawed his way up to it by his own virtues.

Thomas looked like he wanted to say something else and Daud admired his restraint. The silence lasted for almost five minutes before Daud felt like the pressure of it would snap him. "Outsider's eyes! Just say what's on your mind, Thomas," Daud ordered.

"Most of the men are unhappy with this," Thomas said quickly as if he couldn't actually keep the words in anymore. "Attano was never supposed to take the fall for any of this mess."

Daud continued to stare down at the water. "... no, he wasn't," Daud agreed after several minutes.

"It's sitting badly with almost all of us." The Whalers had never had -or at least not been so aware- that someone else was being blamed for their assassinations before. It made the ramifications of killing people unusually and painfully clear.

Daud was trying hard to forget what had happened. He was trying to distract himself by making plans to move the Whalers somewhere safer where Burrows wouldn't find them, but there were few large enough places for them to hide. The dead ends on that front inevitably had his thoughts circling back to what he didn't want to think on. Daud tried to tell himself that none of what happened was his fault. But he was failing miserably as the announcements looking for the Lady Emily filled the air from the speakers, and an innocent man was left to Burrow's so-called mercy. 

At night, Daud remembered how Emily had screamed for her mother and the way that the bodyguard's eyes had looked as they dragged him off. After three months, Daud was reaching the end of his own endurance. He just couldn't seem to shake this guilt like he had so many other times. Daud's marks had all be bastards in some way or another. But this time, this time, he couldn't dismiss the damage in such a way. No, he had broken something that he shouldn't have.

Daud glanced back at Thomas. "Do we have that contact in Coldridge still?" he asked. "That man that works in the kitchens." 

Thomas shook his head. "No, sir, died of the plague a few weeks back."

"Damn," Daud grumbled. He had been hoping that man was still in place. It would have made things so much easier.

"Might I ask what you're planning, sir?" Thomas asked, sounding slightly hopeful to Daud's ears.

Daud considered not telling him but then dismissed the idea. If the majority of his men were already uneasy, then his plan should help them feel better. "We're going to break the Lord Protector out of prison," Daud said. Chances were the man would try to kill them on sight, but Daud knew that Attano would be in no shape for a fight, so he was counting on being able to talk sense into the man as he recovered. True, it would take all of the charms Daud wasn't even sure he had, but Daud couldn't just let the situation stand either. 

"Are you sure that wise?" That was Billie from where she was perching just outside Daud's window. "Attano is the last person we should want free right now."

"He'll want to secure the girl," Daud replied. "We can help him do that, and then we'll slip out if we have to. But I don't like being played a pawn. My agreement with Burrows had nothing in it about letting the Lord Protector get dragged off." True, Daud usually didn't care and wouldn't have bothered to clean up any unintended messes, but this was different. 

"And if he decides to hunt us down for what we did anyway?" Billie asked.

"We'll deal with it then," Daud answered. He couldn't explain his _need_ to do something about the situation. "Thomas, Billie, find some way into Coldridge and where exactly they're holding Attano."

"Probably will be high security," Thomas offered. "He's the highest profile prisoner they have."

"Find out exactly," Daud ordered. Breaking into Coldridge and then out again with Attano was not going to be easy. He just hoped that the Lord Protector was sturdy enough to hold out until they could finish preparing an escape. Daud could tell Billie still wasn't happy with the idea, but Daud didn't care. Even if this foolhardy plan to try and make some fraction of this overwhelming debt up to the other man failed miserably and Daud ended up dead, at least he would have done something.


	2. Chapter 2

_"We should have sex."_

_Corvo couldn't stop himself from spitting out the juice he had been drinking. He coughed and hacked as he put the glass down hard. After a few moments of trying to clear his airway, Corvo finally looked up again. "Jess, what the hell?" he demanded. "What brought that on?" He glanced around and was glad that the maids that had brought their usual private rest day breakfast had already left._

_"We should," Jessamine said from her own seat at the other side of the table._

_Corvo cleared his throat again -it was still burning a little from nearly inhaling citrus juices. "Jess... you're not even interested in sex," he pointed out as he mopped up his mess with a napkin. Corvo knew that Jessamine was ambivalent at best when it came to physical pleasure. He'd spent plenty of Fugue Feasts guarding her to know that by now. Jessamine usually spent Fugue trying to get **Corvo** to enjoy himself rather than using the time as most would assume by having sex with people._

_"And neither are you," Jessamine said. "Well, not with me, anyway. That's what makes this perfect."_

_Corvo stared at her and tried to follow whatever the heck she was talking about. "Jessamine, how does that make having sex in the least bit perfect? Sounds like that would be horrible all around."_

_Jessamine sighed and got up from her seat to go sit beside Corvo instead of across from him. She put a hand on top of Corvo's and gave him a smile. "I don't want anything to happen to you, Corvo," she said softly._

_Corvo sighed, "Jess... it's my job to protect **you**. Not the other way around."_

_"You're my best friend... even if you can't tell me if I look good in this new coat," Jessamine said with a gesture to herself._

_Corvo glanced down at the garment in question. "It fits." Jessamine rolled her eyes at the exact repeat of the statement he'd given her when she first asked when he'd arrived for breakfast. "And... I like the color?" Corvo offered uneasily._

_"Oh, so in-depth," Jessamine said sarcastically. "Honestly, you are the worst gay best friend in the world."_

_Corvo rolled his eyes this time. "My sincerest apologies, Empress. I will do my best to be more incredibly stereotypically gay for you," he said with just as much -if not more- sarcasm than she had used. "And I still don't see what you think us fumbling through sex would do... other than lead to far too much awkwardness."_

_"Because, if it gets out that we're having an affair... even just the rumor of one, it'll keep the Overseers from looking at you," Jessamine said as if it were obvious. "I know the High Overseer made comments to you again. Even if you won't tell me about it."_

_Corvo sighed. "It's not like he can do anything without proof," Corvo pointed out. "And I'm not inclined to give it to him. Besides, if your idea is to start rumors about us -not going into how horrible an idea that is just on its own- we don't really need to have sex to make a rumor."_

_"It would be the easiest way to start one," Jessamine argued. "Just cuddle up with each other a bit more, have sex a few times, and then we can pretend to break up, and everything goes back to normal."_

_"... I still feel this idea is horrible," Corvo argued. "First off, this could very well ruin your reputation. Second off, sex still doesn't seem necessary to cause rumors. And third, there is such a thing as Overseers accusing heterosexuals of being homosexual so it might not even work."_

_Jessamine folded her arms over her chest. "If I were a man you'd sleep with me."_

_"If you were a man I would wreck you, yes," Corvo said. "But that would sort of defeat the purpose here, wouldn't it?" he asked in slight amusement._

_Jessamine sighed and leaned over. "Corvo. I love you, and I want you to be safe. We only have to pretend for a little while, and then you can go back to staring at watchmen's asses while you should be working," she said in a slightly teasing tone._

_"I do not stare at watchmen's asses," Corvo said with an eye roll. "It's called training, and I'm teaching them swordsmanship. I sort of **have** to look at them."_

_"Not their asses," Jessamine said in a sing-song voice._

_Corvo gave Jessamine a quick but gentle shove. "For someone not interested in sex you sure tease me about it enough," he grumbled. "Can't you find another hobby?"_

_"I could go back to trying to matchmake," she suggested innocently._

_Corvo shuddered. "Void, please don't." Last Fugue had been etched into Corvo's memory as one to never repeat. Jessamine had made it her mission to find out what kind of men Corvo liked and had been relentless. The whole experience was terribly embarrassing and probably part of why the High Overseer suspected Corvo of violating scriptures now. Maybe Jessamine had realized that too, and that was why she was on this protecting him kick now._

_Jessamine leaned over to rest her head on Corvo's broad shoulder. "I promise just long enough to get the High Overseer to stop looking at you, Corvo," she said. "And then I'll drop it and won't try to set you up with any handsome young men ever again."_

_Corvo sighed and kissed the top of Jessamine's head. She really did mean well, Corvo knew. And, he supposed a brief rumored affair wouldn't actually hurt anyone. Plus, there was nobody Corvo trusted as much as Jessamine and vice-versa. "... alright. But only because I hate it when you pout," Corvo finally conceded._

_Jessamine hummed, and Corvo could tell she was smiling now. "You know, in another life, I think we would have been fantastic together, you and me." Jessamine looked up at him with a glint of mischief in her eyes. "If you didn't like men so much and I liked anything, that is."_

_Corvo kissed her forehead again. He did love Jessamine, just not like this rumor would imply, and he would do anything to keep her safe and happy. "Yes, I think we could have. But I do like men, and you don't like anything, so that's a moot point," he said. "Although... if you were a man, I would adore you even more than I already do."_

_Jessamine laughed and straightened. "Even more scandalous that would be," she said with amusement. "But, anyway, it's decided. A quick little fling and all will be well."_

_"Yes, Highness," Corvo said. "Whatever you say."_

Neither Corvo nor Jessamine had anticipated the very few times they'd climbed into bed together to perpetuate a few rumors would later result in Emily. They hadn't at all planned for such a thing, but both of them immediately fell in love with the tiny girl they had stumbled into having. "And, in fact," Jessamine had said, "this might actually be perfect. I would only want you to be the one to father my child, Corvo. And now the council can't keep harping on it." It hadn't been planned but Jessamine had never liked the idea of having a child solely to be an heir yet fate gave them one. So they had Emily and Corvo never heard another peep out of the High Overseer about his orientation. Although Corvo and Jessamine kept up the relationship longer than intended for Emily's sake. They wanted her to have some sense of family, even if theirs was so incredibly far from average. Corvo and Jessamine had planned to sit Emily down when she was older and explained the unusual circumstances behind their family to her, but then nothing ever seemed to go quite according to plan.

Corvo was never going to have children. He just hadn't ever expected to do so what with his preferences, and so he had been caught off guard by how powerful fatherhood actually was. And now Emily was in danger, lost in Dunwall somewhere out of Corvo's reach, and traumatized by what had happened at the gazebo. Corvo had to get out to protect Emily. He just didn't know how he was going to do that. Corvo spent most of his time in his cell plotting possible escape plans and then cursing to himself when he realized he'd forgotten something and would have to find another way.

Corvo quickly came to hate whenever the guards would disturb his plotting and drag him out of his cell. He had lost track of how much time he had been in prison and how many times Burrows had 'interrogated' him in an attempt to get Corvo's signature on the confession. Corvo refused to sign it, though. He didn't particularly care what happened to him, but he wouldn't admit to something that he definitely hadn't done. Especially not since he knew perfectly well that confessing wouldn't actually spare his life.

Corvo had been slammed back into the chair yet again, and he tried to look exasperated and bored rather than apprehensive. Hiram was standing there again, and Corvo focused on him rather than the brute that was going to just hurt him some more. "Hiram... don't you have something other to do than torture me?" Corvo asked, although his voice was rougher than it used to be. His condition really was deteriorating. He had lost quite a bit of weight, and his hair had grown longer and shaggier than it had been.

"This would all stop if you would just confess, Corvo. Confession is good for the soul, or so the High Overseer says," Hiram replied casually even as his torturer rummaged around on a table. Corvo tried his best to ignore the brutal mute, but his eyes kept trying to wander that way. "Just admit to what you did, Corvo."

Corvo's eyes snapped to Burrows fully. "... I'll give you a confession, Hiram. I confess I have planned how to murder you every night since I got here," he spat out. "But I never hurt a hair on Jessamine's head, and you fucking know it!"

"Then tell us where Lady Emily is," Burrows ordered.

Corvo glared. "You tell me, _Spymaster_ , surely that's something you should have figured out by now," he said sarcastically. Of course, Corvo only lacked actual proof that Burrows had planned this whole thing, so he _knew_ that Burrows was hiding Emily somewhere. "Where did you put Emily, Burrows? She had better not be hurt!"

Burrows waved a hand. "I have no leads onto the location of the young Empress," he said utterly unconvincingly.

"For a spy, you're not a very convincing liar," Corvo grumbled, but then he knew that wasn't entirely true. Jessamine -and to some extent Corvo himself- had trusted Burrows. Corvo hadn't seen the betrayal coming at all. He liked to think he would have if the Plague hadn't been distracting him, but Corvo honestly couldn't be sure anymore.

"You're helping no one by being stubborn," Hiram said in annoyance. 

"Oh? Am I supposed to think you'll pardon me if I sign your paper?" Corvo asked with an unamused laugh. "I'm not an idiot, Burrows." Confessing wouldn't spare him and would only serve to worsen the slander against him.

Hiram narrowed his eyes and then turned away. The Royal Interrogator stepped forward, drawing Corvo's attention. He held two long metal clamps with screws through each end in his hands, and Corvo clenched his own hands closed into fists upon recognizing them. Corvo fought to keep his fingers tucked in, but the massive meaty fist of the interrogator slamming against his face dazed him enough to lose the struggle.

Corvo tried to not show apprehension as his fingers were threaded between the two metal pieces and then the screws tightened to clamp down on his four digits firmly. The pressure didn't hurt, but the screws were not even remotely close to fully tightened down. Corvo fixed his eyes ahead of him and did his best to not react to the threat even as the fingers on his other hand were put into an identical clamp. He had seen skeletons and illustrations of men that had lost all their fingers due to these horrible ancient contraptions. Corvo wasn't aware Hiram used such barbaric items. The only ones that Corvo had ever seen were in the historical section of the Academy.

With his fingers in the metal jaws, Corvo was forced to keep his hands flat and his digits out. "You know, I take no pleasure in this, Corvo," Hiram said as the torturer picked up a long, thin sliver of metal. Corvo felt his heart catch but managed to not react outwardly. 

"You really should stop acting like you're my friend, _Hiram_ ," Corvo said as he determinedly did not look as the torturer put the sharp tip of metal under the nail of his right index finger and started to push it into his flesh. The sharp pain nearly made Corvo cry out, but he managed to choke it back even as he felt blood start to well up and then drip down from his fingertip. The thin needle kept sliding deeper, and the ex-Lord Protector couldn't stop all of the noise from escaping his throat. He was still glaring at Burrows as best he could despite the pain. "I won't sign your damn confession!" he spat out through the need to cry out.

Corvo gasped as the needle shifted and sent bolts of pain all the way up his arm. "Don't break his fingers on that hand," Burrows instructed. "He'll need them to sign the confession."

The Interrogator grunted and reached for another needle. Corvo clenched his jaw tightly as another sharp pain was slowly thrust under the nail of his finger. Burrows watched impassively as more and more needles were slowly jammed into the delicate flesh of Corvo's nail beds. Corvo tried to let out as little indication of pain as he could but failed several times as the tiny spikes hit tender nerves. Blood was dripping from all of his fingers, and the needles were left sticking out of his hand like horrific ornaments.

Corvo was shaking with the effort of remaining as unaffected as possible. He didn't dare look at his hands for fear it would make everything that much worse. Sweat was beading across his skin, and Corvo was feeling the genuine urge to vomit from the pain and horror -he managed not to, but he wasn't sure how. Burrows frowned slightly and then reached to the screws on Corvo's left hand. He tightened one and the pressure built across the trapped digits. That made the pain even worse, but Corvo stayed as quiet as he possibly could. 

Short, pained huffs escaped as Burrows kept slowly tightening the screws. The pressure and pain kept building slowly but surely. Corvo couldn't entirely stop himself from glancing down and cursed at the way his fingers were turning purple. The blood was trapped in Corvo's fingers, making them pulse which set off even more pain due to the needles and more of the crimson liquid to drip onto the floor beneath his hands. Corvo swore that his bones were creaking in protest, but he fought the urge to tell Burrows to stop. Corvo knew the only way to end it was to sign that stupid confession and he wouldn't do that.

Corvo bit his lip and tried -somewhat unsuccessfully- to not scream as the pain made black spots show up in his vision. Finally, the pressure became too much, and Corvo did scream outright as his fingers snapped under the unforgiving metal jaws. Burrows stepped back as Corvo gasped through unbearable pain radiating from his hands, especially his left. Tears were in his eyes, but Corvo blinked them away and clung to his anger as best as he could. "Are we really going to have to keep going, Corvo?" Burrows asked.

"F-fuck you," Corvo managed.

There was a dull clunk from beside the chair a moment later, and Corvo glanced over to see a bucket on a table. Very confused, Corvo couldn't quite gather his wits in time to stop the torturer from undoing the restraints on his right arm, lifting his hand -still skewered and pinched- from the armrest, and then lowering it into the bucket. Corvo screamed as his wounded hand was almost instantly submerged in salt water. He tried to pull his arm back, but the fat bastard was too strong to manage it.

The sting of salt against the wounds under his nails was relentless, and Corvo tried again to pull his hand back. "This can stop whenever you're ready," Burrows said loudly since Corvo was cursing and hissing in pain.

There was a sudden knock on the door, and Burrows glared at it. "What is it?" he demanded.

The door opened, and a young guard came in. He stared with huge eyes at Corvo -still struggling to get his hand out of the bucket. The salty water was quickly turning pink, but the Interrogator kept his limb deep in the brine. "Yes, what?" Burrows snapped as the guard continued staring in horror.

The soldier snapped to attention even though he was visibly shaken. "S-sorry, sir... um, but there's a-a message -an important message, sir! From the guards you have on the Boyle Estate! You-You said that was the highest priority?"

Burrows narrowed his eyes and then made a sharp gesture. The lumbering torturer pulled Corvo's hand out of the water, leaving the captive man gasping for air even as his fingers continued to sting and throb. "Put him back in his cell. We'll continue this later."

Corvo tried to regain some amount of control over himself even as the Royal Protector part of him wondered why Burrows would have guards on the Boyle Estate. He didn't have long to ponder it though as the needles were roughly yanked free and caused him to cry out. Blood flowed freely from under his fingers and the ones on his left hand were swollen and deeply bruised. But despite the condition of his hands he managed to get in one solid punch to the brute pulling him from the chair. He paid for it by how it hurt his hand and the retaliatory beating, but Corvo considered the satisfaction he got from giving the Interrogator a fat lip worth a bit more pain.

* * *

Corvo had tried his best to splint his fingers with bits of bone from one of his meals and shreds of his shirt. He wasn't convinced he'd actually gotten them straight, but it was the best he could do. At least his other fingers weren't broken. They hurt like hell and were swollen and bruised like his left, but Corvo thought that -at most- they had been slightly fractured or strained which should heal fine. If he lived that long.

Burrows hadn't been around since the last torture was interrupted by whatever urgent matter happened at the Boyles and Corvo was rather glad for the short break. He could use the recovery time. He didn't like how his fingernail beds looked at all. Corvo hoped it was just bruising that was discoloring them and not something worse like an infection setting in. That would be nearly impossible to treat without actual medication.

"Hey! Hey, 'Tano!" someone hissed.

Corvo looked up from where he had been resting with his back against the bed slab and saw a hand waving at the edge of his cell. From the angle, he assumed it was a prisoner in the neighboring one. Corvo thought this convict was new as he couldn't recall seeing anyone in that cell the last time he was dragged out. "Ya awake in there, 'Tano?" the man -whose voice was pure gravel from heavy chain smoking- asked. His low born worker's slur made him even harder to understand, but Corvo had heard the butchering of his last name often enough to identify it. A few of the kids that worked in the barracks at the tower as runners and chore boys had that same habit of hacking off the first syllable of Corvo's surname.

"What?" Corvo asked after several minutes of staring at the waving hand. He wasn't used to being talked to in his cell. There weren't many people in this cell block, and none of them spoke to him aside from jeering when he was dragged off for his regular torture sessions. But Corvo didn't particularly care to make small talk, so that was fine. Still, he had a strange flash of insight from some obscure part of his brain that this new neighbor of his would annoy him if not dealt with now. 

"Yer the one what kilt the Empress, ain'tcha?" the other convict asked.

Corvo scowled darkly. Oh, how he hated how quickly that lie had spread. Everyone was so perfectly content to see him as a heartless murderer. Corvo suspected it was another facet of him being foreign-born. Dunwall seemed to have this idea that anyone not _from_ their own numbers would inevitably turn on them like a rabid mongrel, which Corvo found almost impossibly hypocritical of them. Especially considering how many horrible things he'd heard -and personally witnessed- from the nobility of Dunwall during his years of service.

The other prisoner was still yapping, Corvo realized after a moment. "-were fuckin' her weren'tcha? Tha's wha' eve'body says anyways. _Void_ she musta really pissed ya off then ta make ya kill her. Or was she crap in bed like I always thought?" Corvo's eyes narrowed even as the other man laughed. Corvo might not have strictly enjoyed sleeping with Jessamine, but that wasn't anyone's fault. Especially not Jessamine's. "I ain't like 'em prissy like tha,' I like 'em _nasty_. More fun tha' way when they'll get all down'n dirty wit ya!"

Corvo got to his feet silently. He was swaying from pain and mistreatment, but Corvo's will was too strong to allow himself to collapse. The man in the other cell was gesturing with his hands animatedly as if this conservation was at all normal and that the two prisoners were _friends_ somehow. "'Course I never liked her anyway," the convict was saying. "Women ain't got the righ' stuff ta rule nobody. Jus' askin' fer trouble. Ain't suprisin' at all we're in this mess now. So, I say good on ya fer killin' the wench-"

Corvo reached out and grabbed the other man's wrist with the most vice-like grip he could manage and _wrenched_ the limb hard. The man slammed against the bars with a cry and the sound of it -and of his skull colliding with the metal- caused the guards to stir from their posts at the end of the cell block. Corvo didn't pay the soldiers any attention and reached out with his free arm. He could just manage to hook his arm through and grab the man's head to crush him to the unforgiving iron bars. 

There was a snap as Corvo broke the other man's arm and the prisoner gave a strangled gasp of pain. Corvo could tell that his neighbor's throat was being crushed against the bars from how the man was scrambling and wheezing. "I _didn't_ kill the Empress," Corvo bit out each word with vehemence and twisted the man's broken arm to make him cry out even more. "And don't you _ever_ call her such a thing again!"

The guards were shouting at him now and hurrying down the hall. Corvo reluctantly let the other man go as the soldiers got closer to break them apart. Corvo backed away from the wall even as the other prisoner gasped for air and hacked when he finally got it. "Ya insane bastard!" the man shouted before going back to coughing.

The guards flooded into Corvo's cell and the dishonored Lord Protector was beaten to a pulp for causing trouble. No less than Corvo had expected after breaking another man's arm and choking him. But, Corvo was grimly satisfied when his neighbor was moved a few days later, and nobody else was put in his place. He also got a few less jeers from the other prisoners the next time he was dragged off to be tortured. He would take whatever minor victories that he could.


	3. Chapter 3

Watch Officer Thorpe eyed the three men in front of him uneasily. Only one wasn't wearing a mask, and that man was by far the most intimidating of them. Rough looking with a perpetual scowl on and a scar down the side of his face that looked like it very nearly took out an eye. He looked vaguely familiar to Thorpe, but the guardsman couldn't for the life of him force his brain to work enough to come up with why. "You work in Coldridge don't you?" the man in front asked in a gravely voice.

"...Yes."

"In the B wing?"

Thorpe really didn't know how smart it was to answer these questions, but he could see several blades while he didn't even have a pocket knife on him since it was his day off. He had just been walking to the store when he'd been suddenly dragged into this alley. Now he was pinned to a wall and had no way of slipping away that he could see. This was a horrible day, to say the least. "What do you want?" Thorpe tried to not sound intimidated and doubted it worked like he'd wanted.

"In Cell Block B, is there or is there not a man named Corvo Attano?" The man in the red coat with far too sharp a sword hanging by his side asked.

"The Lord Protector? Y-yes... why?" Thorpe asked again while still trying to push down his nerves.

The leader of the masked men smiled, though it didn't seem all that friendly to Thorpe. It looked more like a predatory smirk. "I need you to slip him the key to his cell," he said. "You have access to it, I know."

"Absolutely not," Thorpe responded instantly. He was no traitor. He might not have the best or most high-ranking job, but he did the job he was assigned and did it well. Sure, he had his doubts about the actual guilt of some of the people held in the prison -the man in question was even one of them- but determining guilt wasn't his job. He just made sure that people didn't escape.

"Corvo Attano doesn't deserve to be in Coldridge," one of the masked men, this one in a blue-grey coat, said.

"That's not my place to decide," Thorpe said. Standing his ground surrounded by those empty-eyed lenses of the masked men was incredibly hard, but he wasn't a coward. The Watch Officer was perhaps not the bravest man in Dunwall, but he was trustworthy and dependable.

"You're going to want to rethink that," the one in the mask and red coat -which sounded surprisingly feminine to Thorpe- said in a vaguely threatening manner. 

The leader, which Thorpe was finally able to place as the infamous Daud, raised a hand and the other two settled instantly. Even with their expressionless masks, Thorpe thought that the other two seemed unhappy to stand down. "I appreciate your loyalty, Watch Officer, however, I don't expect you to risk yourself for nothing. You will be compensated for your cooperation."

Thorpe narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Though he would like to say he had the moral fiber to not be bribed, he had to admit with the way things were in Dunwall lately he was far too tempted. His little son was sickly enough as it was before the plague and now, with everything going to shit so fast, Thorpe wasn't nearly as sure of their day to day survival. Elixir was _so_ expensive even with his minimal discount from being a Watch Officer. Yet without those vials, his son would inevitably contract the plague.

Daud reached into his coat and pulled out a pouch from somewhere inside. Thorpe tried to not look too interested even as Daud held the bag up and out with just the slightest shake to make the coin inside rattle. "There's plenty of coin in here to make this worth your while."

Thorpe really, really shouldn't. He wasn't by nature a traitor, but that money could mean life or death for his son. The Watch Officer had a moment of indecision that stretched on uncomfortably, but Daud just waited. "If I do this... I'll need extra Elixir too," Thorpe found himself saying. If he got enough of both money and Elixir then perhaps he could hide out with his son somewhere the plague couldn't reach.

Daud was quiet for a few heartbeats and then reached back into his coat. After a minute, where Daud didn't move his eyes from Thorpe's face even for one second, the master assassin pulled out three red vials. "Slip Attano the key and leave a weapon out for him and we'll take care of the rest."

The three elixirs and the heavy looking pouch of coin were very tempting indeed. If it were just Thorpe by himself to worry over, a bribe like this wouldn't do a thing. But it wasn't only Thorpe. He'd already lost his wife the year before, he couldn't lose his boy as well. Finally, Thorpe nodded. "Alright, I'll do what you said. But I'll need a few days to arrange everything. If a key goes missing, they'll lock the whole place down faster than you can say Abbey of the Everyman."

Thorpe was a little disappointed that Daud didn't react at all to hearing the Abbey's name. Some foolish, childish part of him had always imagined a heretic -like Daud reportedly was- to at least flinch or something when the Abbey was brought up. "Three days," Daud said. "Any more than that and we'll have to assume that you're trying to cheat us."

Thorpe immediately realized that cheating Daud didn't ever happen twice. "I won't cheat you," he said.

"You had best not," Daud said as he handed over the money and elixirs. Thorpe had mixed feelings as he hid away the valuables under his own coat where they wouldn't be seen. The Watch Officer still had more than a little apprehension about this, but he pushed that to the side. Between his own building unease over the prisoner that was the ex-Lord Protector and the desperate need he had for what Daud was offering, Thorpe pushed all of his apprehension out of his head. Things would be fine. He was sure of it.

Watch Officer Thorpe could only stare in shock and a bit of terrified awe as the assassins in front of him disappeared in a flurry of ash and darkness, leaving no trace that they'd been there aside from the payment burning through his clothes to sear skin. After a moment, Thorpe looked around but saw nobody, not even assassins powered by dark magics. With nothing else to do, the man hurried out of the alley and continued along his way. Up above him, the three assassins watched silently. Daud gave a nearly invisible signal, and Thomas broke away to keep an eye on their Watch Officer. Daud watched for a moment before turning away. Thomas would make sure that they weren't betrayed.

Daud hadn't really wanted to use an inside man that he'd never worked with before on such a risky venture, but they were running out of time. Usually, Daud gave any informants or inside men several smaller tasks to prove they weren't trying to trap the Knife for glory, or whatever stupidity they thought they could pull off. Only after someone passed about four or five test jobs would Daud have called on them to do a task of the scale that Thorpe was being given. That would have ensured loyalty and skill. Unfortunately, splitting their attention to try and find information on the Outsider's mysterious 'Delilah' as well as finding a weakness that would get Attano out of Coldridge at the same time was slowing both goals unbearably. Just a few days ago, the _Lord Regent_ (Daud even sneered the title in his mind he was so disgusted) had announced that Corvo Attano would be executed at the end of the month. There hadn't been time to continue looking for various subtler ways of slipping in and out of Coldridge, hence using Thorpe.

"Are you sure this is smart, sir?" Billie asked. Daud glanced over at Billie who shrugged. She still wasn't convinced of the idea to rescue someone who would want to kill them. "I just can't help but feel that our time would be better served looking into the Outsider's Delilah than getting a man, who must be half-dead by now, out of prison." That was an opinion she had been voicing ever since Daud had told them about the Outsider's message shortly before deciding that Corvo Attano should be released a few weeks after the assassination.

Daud looked across the bay at where Coldridge Prison was just visible through the fog. "Billie, you'll learn someday that the Outsider wouldn't have said anything at all unless it was somehow related to what was already going on." The Outsider may love his cryptic hints and riddles that infuriated Daud to no end, but the Whale God also had never given him any information that didn't relate to the immediate situation that Daud was involved in. The Outsider would never risk Daud's attention wavering to something less interesting.

"But why would he mention something if it weren't the most important thing to focus on?" Billie argued.

"Because it would be more _fascinating_ ," Daud said in a mockery of the Outsider's usual tone. "Trust me, Billie, not everything that black-eyed bastard says should be taken as gospel. He's more concerned with our reactions than being at all helpful." Daud didn't blame Billie for her assumption that the Outsider's words were immediately more important, she had never spoken with the God and so couldn't possibly know better.

Even with the Whaler Mask on Daud could imagine Billie's unhappy expression with no difficulty, and Daud had to admit (if only to himself) the Outsider's little hint had him worried as well. Delilah nagged at the back of his head not letting him forget the God's words. What with Thorpe now in play, perhaps Daud could afford for Billie to split off for just a few days. Daud wasn't entirely happy with that idea, but he also didn't see any real harm in it so long as Billie took the appropriate precautions. "If you're so worried about the Outsider's message, you can take over looking for Delilah until we're done here, Billie. It should only take a few more days," Daud said. "Information gathering _only_. We need to know what the game is before we jump into it." Billie nodded and then disappeared into a flurry of dark fragments. Daud looked one more time at Coldridge in the distance before he too Transversed away.

* * *

Corvo hadn't been certain of the exact date after only a few weeks in Coldridge, but he had still managed to maintain a vague idea of what the current month was. As time continued and he lost any sense of his surroundings more and more frequently due to the tortures, Corvo gave up trying to figure out what the day was and therefore how long he'd been in Coldridge. He felt as if he'd been in prison for years even though he was (almost) positive it couldn't have been that long. Corvo was beyond exhausted and just wanted all the horrible things to stop. If he never saw that torture chamber again it would be too soon. The 'interrogations' were increasing in frequency and brutality. More than once Corvo had been driven to unconsciousness from the amount of pain he was in, and it wasn't as if anyone ever tried to rouse him unless to hurt him more, so he had no idea how much time he lost each occasion. Burrows and Campbell were getting more and more creative to try and cause as much pain as possible and get him to submit and thus he was passing out more and more.

Burrows was ruthless and seemed to have an innate knack for finding just the right places to cut into or hit to cause the most pain. Campbell, on the other hand, was almost more frightening due to his pure sadistic creativity. Corvo had never liked Campbell, and the feeling was most assuredly mutual. The High Overseer had always wanted to catch Corvo violating a stricture even after Emily was born and Corvo's sexuality had seemed no longer questionable. Typically, the punishment for breaking a stricture wasn't too terrible (depending on severity, of course) but often, examples could be and were made from people found guilty. Having eyes plucked out for violating the first or one's hands chopped off over the third or even being starved to death for being found guilty of rampant hunger were all recorded in historical files as things that had indeed happened. Campbell had threatened all those and worse to Corvo since he'd arrived, although Burrows seemed to be keeping him from carrying through with anything too permanent.

Burrows seemed to think keeping Campbell in check would earn him a little cooperation for some reason. Perhaps he was trying to somehow become the 'better' torturer to get Corvo to sign the confession. Corvo, however, was determined not to give in to pain or fall for any stupid mind games. Sometimes, in the briefest moments when the agony was the worst, Corvo would consider it, but that was always quickly banished when he realized he had thought about it and then berated himself for the slip.

Currently, Corvo's face was aching and stinging where the damp air of the cell brushed across his exposed burns. The brands and burns were just the freshest hell that they were heaping onto him. As if the broken bones, open wounds, and starvation weren't enough already. Campbell had found some genuinely unpleasant brands somewhere, and the so-called interrogator was all too happy to follow Campbell's instructions on using them.

The prison was surprisingly silent. Corvo figured it had to be pretty late at night when even the rowdiest of inmates were passed out from their own less than a healthy condition. Corvo knew that he should rest to try and recover his strength, but he was almost too tired to rest, which was a strange oxymoron if ever he heard one.

Corvo was vaguely aware of an occasional announcement about an execution at the end of the month. He didn't pay attention to them at first, but then something that Burrows had said last time clicked into place. Something about the loose end being tied up after this month. Corvo had received a flash of insight saying that the execution everyone was in a tizzy about was, in fact, his own. The morbid part of his brain that was growing with every torture session wondered how exactly they were going to do it. Probably firing squad, he figured.

Corvo was failing, he realized that, but he had no idea what else he could do. He could hold out until his execution but then what? He'd be dead, and Emily would still be in danger. Breaking out in his current condition was incredibly doubtful. Perhaps if he hadn't had quite so many wounds, he'd be able to manage it or maybe if he hadn't been withering away from lack of decent food. Or, even better, if he had managed to find some opening that he could use to escape. In an ironic way that was his own fault. He'd looked over the security of Coldridge and improved it himself shortly after being appointed Royal Protector. Now even he couldn't bust out because he did too good a job. Failed at one job and was too good at another.

Familiar sounding footsteps came closer to the door even though it was far too late for anyone to be at this end of the wing. Corvo hid his face to make it seem like he was sleeping on the uncomfortable rock shelf that served as a bed. The guard was one that Corvo recognized instantly, though he'd never caught the man's name. He was one of the quieter ones that had at least not mocked Corvo and even seemed to be somewhat sympathetic at times. 

The man slid a tray into the cell with a surprisingly large chunk of bread on it. "You should eat, Corvo. This meal comes from a friend," the Watch Officer said. He didn't even pause to see if Corvo was awake or not and, if he was, if he would even take the advice. The Watch Officer just headed out of Corvo's eyesight as if that was a totally normal thing to have done.

Corvo couldn't help but be intrigued and pushed himself up with as stifled a noise of pain as he could manage. The ex-Lord kept his eyes alert as he went to the tray and grabbed the bread. His eyebrow went straight up when something fell with the tinkling sound of metal on stone. Corvo realized that the size of the hunk of rock hard bread was to hide a key within and a note underneath. There was a hole carved into the bottom of the bread that the key had fallen out of and the letter was short but carefully crammed in the center of the paper where the meal had covered it.

Corvo scarfed down the bread -despite it being far too hard and dry to be in the least bit appetizing- even as he picked up the key and the note. Leaning heavily against the bars of his cage, Corvo read the short note about escape several times while continuing to munch on the closest thing that could be called a meal that he'd had for several days.

The bread was quickly gone, and Corvo crumpled up the note that he had been considering. There had been a mention of a weapon. His eyes flicked up to the table across the short hall where a sword was just sitting there all lonely and unattended -entirely against regulations. A pity that.

Corvo made sure to toss the crumpled note into the hole that was the toilet before he used the key to open the cell door and silently moved across the room to pick up the blade. It wasn't his sword that he was so familiar with, but it would do. Corvo glanced around the hall. There were other prisoners in their cells, but they were all asleep. Corvo heard talking and crept ever so slowly towards the source. The room that overlooked the courtyard had three guards in it chatting about nothing in particular. 

Corvo mentally cursed and pulled back from the door frame. Though he was confident that he could take three of them on in a fight, he wasn't optimistic at how fast he'd be able to do it. Chances were he just wouldn't be up to his usual snuff, and one would shout or sound the alarm before Corvo could silence things. That would set off everybody, and his condition really was quite dire, and he didn't fancy a fight with all of the guards of Coldridge right then. No, slipping past would be smarter even if Corvo's hand was just a bit too tightly clenched around the handle of the watch sword. He recognized two of the guards instantly as some of the men that always seemed to get in a few extra punches or kicks before finally backing off.

The one on the left had been especially nasty. Not that long ago he had decided Corvo deserved extra punishment for some imagined slight Corvo hadn't listened to nor bothered to argue against. Corvo's back still throbbed from the bloody gashes left by the man's belt. Nothing would please the once Royal Protector more at that precise moment than running his sword through the man's throat. He even shifted his grip in preparation to do it before catching himself. Killing the man -however satisfying it would be- was not worth possibly losing his only chance to get free and find Emily.

Corvo's damaged fingers complained loudly at how tightly he held the sword, and he made the conscious effort to loosen his grip. Tearing his eyes away from the men, Corvo spotted a dark area off to the side behind a few columns that would help him slip by without being noticed. The room shouldn't have been so poorly lit, but Corvo wasn't about to complain as he used what looked to be lousy maintenance practices to his advantage. The three guards were so busy talking they didn't notice Corvo slip by to hide in the shadows. If they had been in one of Corvo's units, they would never have dared pay so little attention, and he was actually mildly annoyed at how easy it was to slip through to the other side of the room and through the metal door. Merely having a key slipped to an inmate should not have been enough to let Corvo get as far as he already had.

There weren't even any guards on duty in the next room. Corvo found some elixir and a tin of hagfish. Corvo despised tinned hagfish but was far too hungry still to worry about that. He peeled the tin's lid back and choked down the salty, slimy fish strips before continuing on his way. A guard just daydreaming by himself had the key that Corvo needed and was far too simple to sneak up on. Corvo dragged the man back into a dark corner while choking him out. The officer went down slower than Corvo wanted but he didn't make too much noise, so the ex-Lord was confident that nobody had noticed.

With the key in hand to the upper walkway, Corvo continued on. He wasn't that far from the front entrance. The hardest part would be in getting the front door open, but Corvo was sure he'd figure something out. He quite simply had to. There was a guard actually patrolling in the walkway but not with any concern. He too was painfully easy for Corvo to choke to unconsciousness. Maybe he really should have just killed the guards. If they were this incompetent, perhaps the alarm wouldn't have been raised after all and Corvo would have already been out of Coldridge.

Corvo silently padded down the stairs and then towards the door that would lead out to the courtyard of the prison. He was about halfway out, and nobody had even noticed anything amiss.

Just then, Corvo heard several sets of booted footsteps. He just had enough time to realize that the noise was from at least three guards walking up from the courtyard Corvo wanted to go to before his instincts took over. Corvo darted across the room and into the first door he saw. He waited with baited breath while mentally cursing as he listened for any sign he had been spotted. After a moment, it didn't seem like any of the guards were coming his way, and Corvo relaxed just a bit.

Only after he relaxed did Corvo realize just which room he'd taken refuge in. The stained chair was still bolted to the floor in the center of the room, and all the tools that had been used to make him scream endlessly were laid out in neat little rows on trays. The Interrogation Chamber would haunt his dreams for the rest of his life.

Corvo's feet seemed as bolted to the floor as the chair he'd spilled so much of his own blood over. His grip on his sword tightened, and he was distantly aware of his breathing rocket out of his control. Cold dots of perspiration began to form on Corvo's forehead and, with some degree of difficulty, he lifted his empty hand to wipe it away. Corvo's hand trembled, but he somehow managed to pull himself away from the memories trying to drag him down. He did not have time to break apart no matter how much he wanted to.

Corvo needed to escape and save Emily, but since he'd been forced to stop at this hell hole, he should also see what he could find that would be useful. He was still shaking as he quickly crossed the room -making sure to give the chair as wide a berth as was possible while doing so. Corvo was aware that the back room held various confiscated items. Surely something in there would be of use.

Grenades were too loud and messy, so Corvo grabbed them only for emergencies, but he did find several more elixirs and a few coins he could perhaps use once he broke free. He would need money to at least get some medical treatment. Corvo also spotted what looked like a spring-loaded trap fitted with a wire that he was willing to bet could cut through flesh like butter. All of what he found was deadly, and he snatched the items up without hesitation. If the guards made him rip them to pieces, well, it wasn't as if Corvo hadn't trained for years to do just that.

Corvo opened a safe that hadn't even been locked with an eye roll. His derision was brought to a screeching halt when he saw what was inside the heavy metal box. Sitting on the shelf was a medal sitting in a small box. He instantly recognized the black, red and white stripes on the ribbon and the cross-shaped piece of metal. Corvo hadn't really cared all that much about getting the commendation, but he had known that Jessamine was going to give it to him when he returned from his mission. She had -again- been trying to protect him even though that wasn't her job. Jessamine had wanted his work acknowledged, especially since being foreign tended to make it so that others brushed off his achievements. Corvo truly didn't feel he deserved a medal, especially after he had failed to save Jessamine, but he reached out and picked up the case anyway.

The gaunt ex-Lord Protector could only stare for several minutes before tucking the commendation into his shirt. He had no idea what he was going to do with the thing, but it seemed wrong to leave it behind. Corvo took a deep breath and tried to bring his focus back to the current situation. He had to escape. Even though it was the middle of the night, someone would undoubtedly notice he was gone soon. At the very least someone should be coming to relieve the guards that Corvo had knocked out.

Just as Corvo was turning to leave, he noticed something sitting up on a high shelf that seemed to... sing?

Corvo frowned and stepped closer. Yes, sing really was the only word for it. Or perhaps whisper, but the soft hissing noise seemed somehow too musical for those options. Corvo narrowed his eyes. Was it just his imagination or were the shadows of the room... bending in towards whatever it was.

As Corvo got closer, he realized that the item was a dish sized piece of bone with heretical markings engraved upon it and wire twisted through drilled holes. The singing was growing stronger as Corvo crossed the room until that was all that he could hear. He'd seen heretical artifacts before, but most of the ones he'd seen in the past had been tiny things that could fit in someone's palms and looked like three twigs bound together. This thing was most assuredly something... more than those had been.

The shadows kept wavering and bending around the piece of bone. Corvo had no idea why but he found himself reaching out with his broken fingers. The moment he felt the cool rough texture of bone the whole world seemed to shatter into a million fragments around him. He was falling and floating at the same time, and the singing of the artifact became the eerie echo of whale song echoing through the bottom of a boat late at night.

" **Hello, Corvo.** "

Corvo turned and saw a young man with skin the color of a corpse and eyes that were bottomless pits. The man's black suit was pristine even though his hair seemed damp. Corvo had the strange thought that it always was that way, even though he most definitely had never seen this boy before in his life. Then Corvo realized the other was _floating_ above the fragmented ground. Corvo wanted to say something but couldn't.

" **Do you know who I am, Corvo?** " The man asked while bending forward just slightly at the waist. The move seemed formal, imposing, and somehow patronizing all at once.

The man's black eyes glittered, and Corvo couldn't continue to look into them. The name floated up from Corvo's mind, and the strange being smiled in an odd way that didn't comfort Corvo at all. _The Outsider._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I had to decide on this chapter if this was going to be a sequel to the Littlest Whaler story. I've decided this is going to be a spiritual successor to it rather than an outright sequel. Mostly because I want the age gap between Corvo and Daud to be smaller in this story since unlike in Littlest Whaler, this story they're slotted as a couple. There's also going to be a few other details that won't be the same from one to the other so I don't feel it's a true sequel but making a whole prequel story to this one would feel too much like rehashing that story. That said, you won't need to read Littlest Whaler to understand this story. I will explain the history between Corvo and Daud, don't you worry about that. Not in one big info dump but as we continue on the story. I'm going to put this story in a collection with Littlest Whaler so that they are easy to find but I'm not going to link them as actually part of a series. I felt this was the best compromise I could come up with.

"What do you want with me?" Corvo asked after several moments of stunned silence. Of all the things he expected to happen during his escape coming face to face with the _Outsider_ had not been anywhere on that list. The whale song vibrated through Corvo's body and made him uncomfortable. The ex-Lord Protector had no idea where the noise was even coming from - it wasn't as if they were on a boat where one might expect to hear whales. The reverberations in his chest made his bones _ache_ , especially the ones that had been broken.

" **I find you very interesting, my dear Corvo** ," the Outsider said.

Corvo studied that impassive face for a moment and tried to comprehend what he'd been told. He was somewhat less than successful. " _I_ am interesting to you?" he asked. "Why would I interest you at all?" Corvo might have held an important role in the Empire, but he'd failed it and lost everything. Now he was fighting to just keep standing. He didn't see how that would be in anyway interesting to watch.

The Outsider smiled, and Corvo fought -unsuccessfully- the urge to shiver. There was something altogether too unsettling about the Outsider's grin, especially combined with his pit-like eyes. Something cold and predatory. " **You, Corvo, are about to play a most important role in the fate of so much more than you know. You are the pivotal piece in a game I have been watching unfold for years. Soon, you will be presented with a choice. This choice was one you were always destined to make, and yet, I so rarely saw you be presented with it in this way. I wonder if that will change what you will choose.** "

"What choice?" Corvo asked.

" **Now, Corvo, if I told you ahead of time, that would rather ruin the surprise,** " the Outsider said. He almost sounded amused but didn't quite manage to make the emotion sound real enough. The God sounded as if he were making a guess as to how emotion was supposed to sound -an educated one, but still not quite correct. " **You've shown remarkable restraint already. Not many would have passed by so many people who had torn him to tatters and laughed while doing it.** "

Corvo's heart stuttered, and he tried his best to not remember the horrible pain and degrading conditions he had been forced to endure for the past months. The torture had been endless, and the taunts after had been almost as hard to bear. Most were convinced of his guilt and so held no pity or mercy for him. "They weren't worth it... there are others more deserving," he said. Slicing Burrows from throat to groin sounded far more appealing than just killing random guards drunk on their own circumstantial power.

The Outsider's eyes glittered beneath his dark brows. " **Indeed. I shall look forward to what you do to _them_ then. Will you manage to keep that restraint or will you finally unleash that rage that has been boiling inside you for so long?** "

"I have no reason to be restrained," Corvo snarled. He'd been tortured to the brink and had only one thing he was interested in. Getting to Emily. If he had to cut a bloody swathe through all of Dunwall to accomplish that, well, that was what he would do.

" **Do you not?** " The Outsider asked mildly. Corvo didn't find that question to be worth a response and the god in front of him shrugged in an oddly fluid way that didn't seem at all natural. " **The choices you make are yours alone. But I shall greatly enjoy the show.** "

"This isn't a show!" Corvo was unable to help but snap.

" **To aid you, I've decided to grant you a boon,** " the Outsider continued as if Corvo hadn't interrupted at all. Corvo hissed as the back of his left hand burned. The burning was oddly lacking heat yet caused a spine curling sizzle of his flesh. The sting was reminiscent of the time Corvo had gotten splashed with a sample of River Krust acid, but ended sooner. An occult symbol was emblazoned on the back of Corvo's hand, already fading to a deep black from the gold that it had been. " **My mark. Use it as you see fit, or don't. You remember how to use one, I trust?** "

Corvo stared down at his hand for a moment before his eyes flicked back up to the Outsider hovering there placidly. "Why?" Something burned in the depths of his chest, threatening to overwhelm him entirely.

" **As I said... you interest me** ," the Outsider said. " **I see so many things you can become, and it is fascinating to watch some unfold while other options fade until only one path remains.** "

"So, all of this... is just to amuse you?" Corvo demanded. His throat ripped from his own tangled emotions -outrage, pain, sorrow- that were threatening to suffocate him. "Is watching me suffer so entertaining?"

" **Your suffering? No. Your pain, although extraordinary in its depth, is not particularly unusual or worth my attention. Especially given the current state of things.** " The Outsider made the slightest wave with his hand as if even the topic was barely worth the effort of brushing aside. " **What you do because of it, however, that is quite a different matter. You have been through a lot, Corvo. Your life turned on its head so many times in your life, and yet you soldier on. Seeing what you become, _that_ is why I watch you.** "

Corvo was not satisfied with that, but the Outsider was entirely unaffected by the ex-Lord Protector's thunderous face. "No wonder he always called you a bastard," Corvo grumbled.

The Outsider smiled without even a speck of humor. " **The circumstances behind my birth and existence are really quite unimportant at this point in time,** " he replied. " **But, I'm glad to see your spirit is still within you like I thought. That will make for a much more fascinating course of events.** "

"Is that all then?"

The Outsider tilted his head, his alien eyes studied Corvo's scowl for just a moment. " **One last thing, Corvo.** " He held out his hand and above it swirled darkness and ash. The shadows coalesced into a lumpy fist-sized object. " **I give you this. The heart of a living thing, molded by my hand, to help you find what you need. Have no fear of holding it. Only you will be able to see and hold the heart. Only you ever could.** "

Before Corvo could question what the Outsider meant by that, the darkness swept around him, and he was flooded by some instinctive, icy fear. When Corvo blinked, he was standing in the back of the Interrogation Chamber as if nothing had happened. Corvo felt himself tremble and suddenly he was entirely too aware of the months in Coldridge and all the implications of that otherworldly visit. His knees gave out, and Corvo fell to the ground as the shaking worsened for a moment. Adrenaline was only making his current situation more difficult, but there was little that Corvo could do about that since it was also mostly what was keeping him upright. The black mark of the Outsider was blatant across his hand, and he felt the slightest weight on his chest right beside where he'd tucked his Naval Commendation. Corvo forced himself to take several slow breaths to try and get control of his body.

How long Corvo sat there, he couldn't say, but eventually, he managed to push everything down and focus only on the fact that he had to escape still. Coldridge was far from a safe place to just sit and try to gather his thoughts or wits. Corvo looked at his hand again. At least now he knew how he was going to get around that front door.

Corvo grabbed his sword and pushed himself to his feet again. It was long past time to leave. Corvo still made sure to give the chair as much room as he could and took a moment to peer through the keyhole of the Interrogation Chamber door before leaving. The guards that had unknowingly chased Corvo to take shelter in the room were nowhere to be seen. The ex-Lord slipped out of his hiding spot and crossed the open area to reach the courtyard of the prison.

There were a couple of guards hanging out in the ill-maintained yard chatting and smoking. One was sitting on top of an old hound crate while the others were sitting on a roughly hewn wooden bench across the packed dirt clearing. Some long grasses and weeds were growing on the edges but nothing truly pleasant to look at. The whole yard was only really a place for guards to hang out while they were off duty since no prisoners were allowed out of their cells anymore. Corvo knew that back when Jessamine was alive the prisoners had been granted at least some time in the yard if they were physically able and well behaved enough, but that didn't seem to be happening anymore. Or maybe that was just Corvo... it was rather hard for him to tell when he was isolated in B-wing almost all of the time.

The guards weren't paying very much attention as Corvo carefully moved off the steps to take cover behind a large concrete pillar. There was a patch of weeds growing around the base of the square column and Corvo couldn't quite help but stop and stare down. He had utterly forgotten what anything remotely resembling grass felt like, and though these were scraggly weeds opposed to a lush lawn that the very rich sometimes had, it was so different from hard stone Corvo took a moment to appreciate the change.

The cool feeling of plant life under his bare feet was somehow amazing to him. Amazing and energizing at the same time. One of the guards laughed at a bawdy joke and pulled Corvo's attention back to the task at hand. The ex-Lord forced his aching body into a crouch so that he was even better hidden and peered out through the branches of a bush that was half dead.

Corvo studied where they were and frowned as he realized they were actually positioned in places that wouldn't make it easy to slip by. They were all sitting in enough of a circle that between the three of them the could see almost all of the yard. Corvo shifted and looked around for any sort of alternate path to get to the other side of the yard where the entrance hall was.

The obnoxious guards were still making bad jokes and being generally distracting, but Corvo was sure they hadn't noticed him crouching behind the column. After a few more minutes, Corvo finally spotted the easiest way to get to the distant door, and fortunately, he had a way to do what he was thinking.

The ex-Lord Protector made his way back out of the yard and carefully made his way back up to the higher walkway. The height would be necessary to get the distance he needed without having to scramble up a railing in plain view of a guard. Corvo didn't see any other guards as he got to the observation room placed above the yard. Corvo reached across the desk and pushed at the window, but the latch didn't move. "Damn," he grunted as he tried and failed to open first one window and then another. Looking closer, Corvo realized that the metal frames had been welded at some point and the latches were not stuck closed. Only a few of the windows were even capable of opening, and all of them were now inoperable. Corvo scowled at the windows and, after a moment, distantly recalled that he himself had suggested ensuring that no windows that lead to the outdoors could be opened. For security.

Corvo was again foiled by himself. He would have to risk that climb and just hope that those three guards down below were as oblivious as the others he had come across. Corvo was just about to go back down when another thought occurred to him. He had made so many suggestions he doubted that they would have done all of them. He turned back towards the walkway and glanced upwards. Sure enough, the grating he had disliked were still up there although they had been 'covered' with what looked like loose metal plates.

Corvo jumped up and grabbed the grating. He groaned at the strain of hanging there by his arms. Corvo's arms were trembling from the effort as he reached over and started pushing and pulling at the grates. After a few moments of trying, Corvo found precisely what he thought he would. One of the grates popped up easily, and he was able to slide it to the side and climb up on top of the walkway.

His bare feet were silent as he headed along the walkway. He could get even closer to his target than Corvo had initially thought now that he was on top of the walk. Corvo reached the edge and peered over the barbed wire. He looked down at his hand. The Outsider's Mark glowed as he focused on what he wanted.

Clenching his fist made the energy in his veins build up to the point it was almost painful. The effort made Corvo's arms tremble even as he looked down at the doorway which was his target. He narrowed his eyes and focused hard, willing himself to be _there_ rather than on top of the walkway. Perhaps it was just his condition speaking, but the act of focusing was so much harder than he expected.

Finally, Corvo was sure he would land where he wanted and leapt across the wire edge before releasing his fist. He smelled cold and heard a strange vacuum noise, and suddenly Corvo was crouched down beside the door quite a ways below where he had leapt from. His whole arm tingled and his broken fingers throbbed, but he put that out of his mind for the moment. He could worry about his injuries and how he was inevitably agitating them with all this activity later on.

Corvo sneaked through the doorway and then ducked behind an anti-riot blockade that was placed nearby. The main entrance of the prison had plenty of guard hanging around. They would have made it much more difficult to break out. If Corvo didn't have a new trick to get around them. Transporting himself up onto some pipes was easy enough but jarring. He couldn't seem to make things flow as well as he used to either because of his condition or because he was incredibly out of practice. Plus the transport just _felt_ different. Faster and more frenetic. He also noticed that time hadn't slowed at all while he was focusing. Corvo could see how he would have to make faster decisions if he weren't well hidden.

Putting the strangeness of how he was moving around out of his mind for something to ponder later, Corvo climbed up the giant pipes to cross the room where none of the guards would notice. Guards so rarely looked up. Corvo paused at the top of the big gate separating the first checkpoint of the prison from the primary guard station to catch his breath. He was getting ever more exhausted. Corvo had gotten a short burst of energy earlier from actually having food, but that had already been used up.

There was a small hole in the wall nearby that several pipes used to get outside. Corvo was sure he'd told them to close that up, but he was glad that they had ignored that advice. He tried to be as quiet as possible as he dropped down from being on the gate to the top of the pipe that ran through the security gap.

The dark execution yard was incredibly ominous since Corvo knew that the observation stands being constructed were for people to watch _him_ die. The stand across from the observation area was already stained red, and the wall behind it was spattered with holes from stray bullets. Corvo swallowed hard and pulled his attention to the wall of Coldridge. He just had to get over that, and then he'd be actually free. Luckily, it was a bright enough moon out that Corvo would most likely be able to climb down the rock face to get to the river without breaking his neck. Corvo glanced around the moonlit yard for the best way to get down from his perch and then up to the wall. He could always teleport with his mark but just having done it twice already had drained him too much. He was afraid if he used the mark again he would actually pass out.

Before Corvo could decide how to get down without hurting himself more, there was a familiar noise of air being displaced and right beside him on the pipe a man in a grey leather jacket wearing a gas mask over his face appeared, hands already raised to show he was unarmed. Corvo considered heavily stabbing the man in the throat anyway. Before he could, though, he was distracted. "We were starting to get worried that Thorpe got caught," a somewhat familiar voice said.

Corvo frowned and searched his memory, but the tinny quality of the respirator made it hard to be sure. "Man, they really did a number on you in there didn't they, Attano?" the whaler continued, catching sight of the ill tended to wounds and general raggedness of the ex-Protector. The assassin reached up and pulled his mask off, and Corvo was struck with a vague sense of recognition. The dark hazel eyes were particularly familiar, but it had been years since Corvo had seen an unmasked Whaler so he couldn't be sure who this one was. But, based on the familiarity this whaler addressed him with, Corvo had a reasonably decent guess at who it was.

"It's me, Corvo. It's Quinn." Well, it was nice to know his identification skills hadn't gotten too rusty in the hell hole that was Coldridge. Even with people he hadn't seen in years.

When Corvo didn't say anything back, Quinn attempted a smile, which fell rather flat. "Still the quietest bastard in all the isles, I see," Quinn said with false cheer. There were several awkward minutes of silence where Quinn fiddled with his mask. "Look, I know you must hate us after what happened... but we can't just let you take the fall for this. You weren't supposed to be in Dunwall during the attack..." As if that really made any of it better.

"Does Daud know you're doing this?" Corvo asked finally.

"He sent us," Quinn said after a pause. Corvo was about to ask what Quinn meant by 'us' but then stopped himself. It would be foolish to assume that no other Whalers were around just because he couldn't see them. Even as he thought that he spotted another Whaler in a blue coat appear on top of the wall. Quinn didn't give Corvo any warning at all and used a grip on the freshly escaped man's elbow to Transverse them over to the wall.

The surprise had not been a pleasant one and when they reappeared Corvo stumbled. He hadn't taken a breath before the jump either which hadn't helped his sudden surprise and he had to struggle to make his lungs work again. Quinn winced and rubbed Corvo's bony shoulder in apology and comfort. "Sorry. Easy, Corvo. Remember, nice and slow."

"I'm fine," Corvo said as he pushed himself back up from where he'd stumbled. He looked out at the river and then over to Quinn, who had yet to put his mask back on. "Burrows hired Daud," Corvo said. Even though it wasn't really a question, Quinn nodded to confirm it. Corvo was practically vibrating with rage until he took another couple of deep breaths.

"You gonna be okay, Corvo?" The other whaler, who by his voice Corvo thought was Thomas, asked.

At first, Corvo wasn't going to dignify that with any sort of an answer at all. He didn't like answering stupid questions. Once he'd managed to get his trembling under control, he finally did answer him though. "When I get Emily back."

Quinn shifted uneasily where he was standing still. "We don't have her, Corvo..."

Corvo turned and glared at his one time best friend. "Then where is she?"

"We had to hand her over to a couple Lords in league with Burrows. They're holding her until everything settles down. But they wouldn't dare hurt her, Corvo," Thomas said. "You know Daud wouldn't hand her over if he thought she was going to be in danger."

Corvo didn't reply to that right away. There was a time when he thought a lot of things of Daud, but now he had been forced to reevaluate everything. And not for the first time in his life he was not pleased with the conclusions he came to. "Take me to Daud."

"Corvo-"

"Now."

In his early years, Corvo had easily taken orders, but now he was far more accustomed to giving them, and his tone broke no arguments. Thomas sighed but nodded. "Well, we were going to give you at least a few hours to recover first, but this way," he said as he slipped off the top of the wall. "Just... try not to kill him right away?"

Corvo didn't make any promises.


	5. Chapter 5

Swimming across the canal to the sewer entrance was not fun. The water, probably polluted from runoff, stung Corvo's open wounds and his already tired muscles screamed as he forced himself through the current to the other side. Corvo lagged more than he usually would have but he clambered out of the water and up onto the shore without drowning, which he thought was quite the accomplishment all things considered. Quinn, still bare-faced, ducked down to help Corvo to his feet, wincing as the ex-Lord's wet shirt started to redden as the fabric clung to where river water had re-wet or re-opened several wounds. Corvo had to rely more on Quinn to get him fully upright again than he would have really liked but was too grateful for the help to really complain. Thomas quickly shut the gate to the sewers behind them and then Transversed up ahead to lead the way again.

"Hold up a minute, Thom," Quinn said.

Thomas paused, and Quinn moved forward to mutter something to him low enough that Corvo couldn't hear. Not that he really needed to listen to figure out what was going on. Corvo leaned back against the dirty wall of the tunnel and took the chance to catch his breath as the murky water pooled beneath his bare feet. They hadn't really needed to stop, and Corvo was sure that Quinn had manufactured a reason just to give the waterlogged ex-Lord a minute to catch his breath. If it weren't for the fact that he really had needed it, Corvo would have been quite upset at the special accommodation. As it currently was, Corvo couldn't even muster the effort it would take to give a halfhearted glare.

Quinn came back over to where Corvo was leaning and pulled out a red vial of Sokolov's Elixir. "Here." Corvo hesitated for just a second too long, not having expected to be handed an Elixir. "You know you need it."

Corvo narrowed his eyes and snatched the tube from Quinn. "I'm aware," he all but growled. The Elixir had always been one of Corvo's least favorite things to taste, but at least the sting of his wounds began to fade, and Corvo felt some of the pain beating at him disappear. Elixir, however, was a patch job for injuries at best, and Corvo knew he would need actual medical treatment. Hopefully, he would get some soon.

Once he finished the vial, Corvo tossed it off to the side where it clattered, and the glass broke. He gave himself another moment before finally pushing off of the wall to stand straight. "You sure you're alright?" Quinn asked as he looked Corvo over carefully. The wounded escapee managed to not sway where he stood, but it was a near thing. He would really instead lay down for a few minutes even though there wasn't time for that. Instead, Corvo just nodded. There wasn't really anything to do about his condition right then but to keep pressing forward until they got to somewhere safe.

Corvo didn't have to limp along too far before they reached another gate. This one, however, didn't even reach the top of the service tunnel and the three men were able to fit into a crawlspace between the cage and the tunnel ceiling. Corvo followed along with a grimace as he tried to keep up and also not agitate his wounds. The three of them reached the other side of the caged area of the tunnel and dropped down. Corvo couldn't quite help himself from stumbling upon landing, but Thomas caught him before he hit his knees. Corvo _hated_ his current state; unfortunately, there wasn't much else that could be done about it.

Quinn and Thomas led Corvo along the tunnels until they reached a small alcove that looked just large enough for a young child to crawl through. Thomas ripped away several boards that had been blocking the hole and then pulled out a small trunk that had been wedged in so tight several bits of masonry fell out along with it.

Thomas opened the trunk and started pulling out various things to hand off to Corvo. Primarily dry clothes and actual boots. Corvo quickly tossed off his wet clothes, not at all caring where they landed, and then dried off as best he could with a towel that was dry and clean but perhaps a bit too thin. The cold of the sewers and water that they'd gone through left Corvo shivering so he hurried to dry off as quickly as he could. Once he was mostly dry, Corvo pulled the clean clothes on and shoved his feet into scuffed up and slightly too small shoes. The heavy whaler coat that Thomas handed him made Corvo pause, but he wanted the warmth too much to put up a protest. Corvo ruffled his hair with the towel one last time to try and get the last drips to stop before turning to see Thomas and Quinn waiting. Quinn looked uncomfortable, and Thomas had yet to remove his mask but seemed to be looking away judging by the angle of his head.

Once Corvo was again dressed, the three of them continued through the tunnels. Corvo wasn't sure where they were going and didn't bother asking either. After what felt like at least an hour of traversing the service tunnels with only a few pauses when Quinn noticed Corvo lagging too much, they finally reached a sewer grate that had been pulled back. Corvo could smell the briny air of the Wrenhaven, and see the dim -but still brighter than the sewers- open air beyond. Thomas slipped out first, and then Quinn let Corvo go out second. 

A small skiff was waiting at the shore with another Whaler sitting at the rudder. Corvo wasn't sure that four of them would really fit in the small boat, but he wasn't about to protest. The assassin at the rudder looked up and then half rose. "Corvo..." The mask was pulled off just a moment later, and Corvo had to admit he was a little surprised to see Rulfio.

The silence fell instantly and heavily. Corvo didn't know what he was supposed to say or do here. While in a way it was good to see Rulfio again, the circumstances hindered any pleasure he usually would have from seeing the older man. Rulfio also seemed a bit torn on what to do. "We should go," Thomas finally said.

Corvo didn't say anything and just got into the boat, sitting down perhaps a bit heavier than he really meant to. Quinn sat beside him and Thomas right in front while Rulfio retook his position at the rudder. The river was surprisingly calm today, and the skiff had no trouble at all going along the shore. Corvo's tired body was trying to drift off to sleep now that he had stopped moving, but he wouldn't allow it. Instead, he focused his attention on the shore they passed by and the places he recognized. He wasn't as familiar with this part of Dunwall as some of the others, but he knew enough to have a general idea of where they were. He had a few ideas of where they could be going. Corvo hadn't quite been able to help himself but speculate on where the Whalers had moved off to during his absence. The first thing he had done upon returning to Dunwall after his appointment to the Royal Guard, was to return to the old apartments just down the river from Kaldwin Bridge. There hadn't been any sign of a Whaler having been there for quite some time, and though Corvo hadn't been surprised by that, he had still been a little stung with disappointment. After some time, Corvo had narrowed down the places he thought that the Whalers could have set up a base while he was gone.

As Rulfio angled the skiff towards the Flooded Financial District of Rudshore, Corvo realized his second guess had been right. His first guess had been an old abandoned Slaughterhouse that had been built long before whale oil had been the boom it became. It had suffered a fire, and the owner had just let it rot, but the place had been well situated near several easy access points to various methods of travel. Rudshore was more remote -though still in the city- but more extensive and a place the watch didn't come too close to. He had thought that convenience would have been more of interest than remoteness, but he also had no idea if this was first, second or third option for Daud. "Not first," Corvo decided more to himself than those in the boat with him. He didn't think Daud had picked Rudshore first, but then he was always on the lookout for better places to hide than the one he had currently.

"What's that?" Quinn asked.

"My second guess of where you were hiding," Corvo said even though that hadn't been what he'd meant when he said it.

Thomas looked back at them, and Quinn shifted uneasily. "You, uh, knew we were here?" Quinn asked. Corvo looked over at Quinn and just gave the other man a blank look. Quinn quickly became even more uncomfortable. "...right," he muttered. "I guess you were Royal Protector and all..." That implied access to some intelligence casual Watch Captains wouldn't have, not to mention Corvo's more profound understanding of their methods.

Corvo was silent as they passed a few disguised checkpoints and saw little flickers of movement out of the corner of his eyes of Whalers moving about. Then he started to see makeshift walkways and bridges spattered here and there. "We're in the old Chamber of Commerce building mostly," Quinn said suddenly. "But we've spread a bit since we have the room. It's not so bad even if everything is constantly damp feeling."

The boat slid silently through a street that was now a river and passed under a scrap blockade. Corvo felt a familiar wrenching pain in his chest as he stared up at the giant marble statue of Jessamine staring down at them. There were even more Whalers here along with veritable warrens of ramps, bridges, and platforms along the streets. For a long moment, Corvo couldn't pull his attention away from the visage of the mother of his child larger than life in front of them. The pain was still there and fresh as if he'd just been holding her crumpled body in the gazebo moments before.

Then there was a flash of black out of the side of his vision, and his eyes slid down to a platform where the black had resolved into red. Blood red. Daud was standing there waiting and staring at him. Corvo didn't even think.

His head rang with a high pitched noise that made him ache as he unleashed his own power. There was a startled sound from the others Corvo just made out over the ringing in his ears, but he was already through the Void and landing in front of a very startled looking Daud. Corvo's fist flew with all the lagging strength he had managed to save up, and the snap of bones was satisfying as hell, even if some of them were his own damaged fingers finally breaking completely.

Daud stumbled back, and Corvo would have continued despite how his vision was speckling with black dots, but Quinn was suddenly there in front of him with both hands pressed against Corvo's chest. "Easy, Corvo! You promised!"

"I did not!" Corvo snapped as Thomas tried to help Daud. Daud however, shook off the attempt and straightened himself. His nose was fully bent and streaming blood. "He deserves a hell of a lot worse than a punch."

"You're right," Daud said although his voice sounded off due to the damage Corvo had inflicted. Daud spat out some blood that either indicated a loose tooth as well or some blood had gone back instead of down his face. "And you're welcome to it later," he added.

Corvo narrowed his eyes. "I don't take orders from you." Corvo wasn't a Whaler any longer. Hadn't been for years.

Daud fixed Corvo with a gaze that used to intimidate a younger Corvo but now only enraged him further. "No. But you can't kill me," Daud stated.

"Oh no?"

"No," Daud said as he wiped some blood off his face. "You punched harder at fourteen than you managed just now."

Corvo felt his anger stir up even more. "Well, I'm hardly opposed to trying again," he growled.

"You'll fall over," Daud replied. "You're already swaying where you stand. If Quinn weren't holding you up, you'd probably fall flat on your face."

Corvo gnashed his teeth and clenched his fist, but the last bit of his magical stamina had been well and truly used up. His eyesight blacked out entirely and Quinn let out a startled noise as he had to catch a suddenly slack Corvo. Corvo's vision returned slowly, and the ringing in his head was even worse than before. He felt he might throw up the poor excuse of nourishment he'd had during his breakout but somehow didn't. He could feel the bile at the back of his throat, though. As Corvo's vision slowly cleared, he lifted his head again. His eyes met Daud, and he _dared_ Daud to say something even slightly resembling an 'I told you so.' Daud wasn't stupid, however. Instead, his eyes flicked briefly to Corvo's hand and then up again with an expression so muddled with different things Corvo couldn't even begin to decipher it. "Where did you get the mark, Corvo?" Daud asked quietly and in a tone that Corvo couldn't quite place.

Corvo could answer, but they both knew there was only one place he could have gotten a mark. Daud certainly hadn't granted the Arcane Bond to him again. Instead, Corvo decided to be difficult and said nothing at all. Daud waited for a few heartbeats, but Corvo just stared at him in a challenge. Daud finally sighed and looked at Quinn who was still half holding Corvo upright. "Take him to the Infirmary. Get him patched up."

Quinn nodded and after several attempts to coax the half-dead man to cooperate, managed to finally get Corvo moving again. Luckily, the Infirmary wasn't too far. Daud watched as Corvo was led away although he was starting to push Quinn away to try and move on his own steam again. Stubborn bastard. Daud sighed again and reached up to his nose. He steeled himself and then cracked it back into a placement more correct and then wiped some of the blood off his face. "Did he really punch harder when he was fourteen, sir?" Thomas asked.

"... no," Daud admitted. "But he would have collapsed if he tried more than that. How bad off is he?"

"Pretty bad," Thomas supplied. "His back's tore up pretty good, covered in nasty looking burns and his hands-"

"I saw that," Daud interrupted. When he'd looked for the mark, it couldn't have possibly escaped his notice how even Corvo's hand had been bruised and swollen and, judging by the makeshift splits, broken badly. "Did you know he had the mark?" Corvo hadn't used it to fend them off at the gazebo so it had to have happened after that although why he wouldn't then use it to escape, Daud had no clue.

"No," Thomas said. "Quinn Transversed him over the wall. Didn't think to look for a mark."

Daud nodded. They'd had no reason to think Corvo would have one. "Unless he has to stay in the Infirmary, see to a room for him. No doubt he's not going to be holding off on trying to kill me for long, but he needs a place to rest before he can do that." And Daud didn't doubt Corvo would be trying it sooner or later. Even if it just came in the form of trying to beat Daud to death. Daud might even let him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone else have a fascination with moving around the Whalers ages and jobs and just everything. I mean we get so little besides some names on notes to go off of... so many possibilities to play with!

Corvo could recall the first time he met Daud with intense clarity. He'd been thirteen with his voice just beginning to crack and out of his mind with terror and trauma. Daud hadn't been there for him but stumbled across his actual target -a man at least four times Corvo's age and three times his size- slobbering all over the naked teenager that had been chained to the headboard by his hands to keep him from fighting back quite as hard. And then, very suddenly, there had been blood everywhere. Daud had loomed up above him, his scar still fresh, red, and angry on his face and the scowl that Corvo had quickly grown very familiar with darkening his eyes to a burnt umber color. Daud hadn't had as much of a reputation back then, but still, enough of one -especially with that scar now to identify him- that Corvo had known of it even held prisoner like he was. Corvo had been sure he was about to die, and he hadn't minded the idea.

Daud had surprised him then by undoing the shackles and offering the traumatized teen a place to go. Corvo hadn't had any better options and -looking back on that time with far more years behind him- Corvo could realize that he'd been dealing with a case of hard hero worship. There had only been a few of them back then (Rinaldo, Rulfio, Yuri, Misha, and Javier), and Corvo had been the youngest. Just six years had separated Corvo and Daud, but it had felt like more somehow which Corvo equally found unsettling and comforting at various points in those early years. Corvo clung to Daud perhaps more than was healthy, staying close whenever Daud allowed it and sometimes even when he didn't. They slipped through the streets of Dunwall doing all manner of jobs and slowly gathered more and more people that quickly became known as the Whalers due to their heavy coats and masks.

After a few years, Corvo was no longer the youngest Whaler and had quickly become friends -brothers really- to Quinn and several others his own age or a few years younger. About that time the others his age were starting to discover sex for the first time, and Corvo had felt distinctly... uncomfortable. He hadn't told anyone the circumstances behind how Daud found him, and he was sure that their leader hadn't shared either. As the others fooled around and explored, Corvo was ashamed that he'd already more than known everything they excitedly whispered about.

Corvo's shame quickly morphed into a need to become accepted (probably unwarranted, but he'd felt it all the same) and he'd tagged along with Quinn and the others as they went out to play around in the streets of Dunwall with strangers and each other -however, the mood struck them. Corvo had been horrified to quickly realize that women held no interest for him in the least. The others hadn't understood, but they'd tried to assure him in the ways only siblings could. None of what they said or did helped Corvo to think of himself as less broken.

The realization was like opening floodgates and, no matter how Corvo tried to not think about it at all, he couldn't seem to stop. He tormented himself by going back and forth between fantasies and self-recrimination. Not helpful in the least was that most of those said fantasies revolved around Daud himself -the hero worship having morphed into something deeper without Corvo's awareness as they worked together. Corvo tried unsuccessfully to muffle his emotions.

Everything built up until the Fugue Feast of Corvo's sixteenth year. Too much drink had flowed into the Whaler's base as it did everywhere during Fugue. Corvo had tried to drink away the conflict in his mind which he now knew was a pointless thing to try. But he had and ended up very drunkenly acting on his own self-repressed desires by kissing Daud. Daud had been quite drunk himself, and so they'd ended up going much too far for a mere student and teacher or even friends -if they had actually managed that.

Corvo hadn't been particularly surprised but still gutted when he'd woken up a few days later with a terrible hangover mixing very poorly with the rolling of the sea on a ship bound for Karnaca. The mark on his hand had faded off, and there was a letter from Daud for him in his pocket. He hadn't been able to bring himself to read it. Corvo had known things would end badly, which was why it took so much drink to make him act in the first place. He knew Daud well enough to know the older man would balk at being involved with a subordinate or really anyone. Daud didn't like entanglements, and romantic trysts often led to that.

But there had been nothing for Corvo in Karnaca anymore. He wasn't the boy that had been taken from there three years before. He felt like a fraud wearing someone else's face. His mother had been overjoyed to have him back, and he tried for her sake to be that innocent kid again. Corvo failed more often than not, and he took his frustration out in the streets with his sword. His mother had grown ill from how little she'd looked after herself when he'd been gone. While she'd been looking for him. Corvo did his best to care for her once he returned. The only thing he'd been able to do back then was fighting so when the Blade Verbena rolled around it seemed the obvious solution. He hadn't really wanted to become a soldier, but there had been prize money in the mix as well. Corvo hadn't really thought he wouldn't win although everyone jeered when he entered.

Effortlessly enough he bested the wealthy lords' sons and practiced middle-class that had laughed at the street kid from Batista that they didn't realize had been taught by the best and learned on actual people in Dunwall's backstreets. The money he got helped his mother recover somewhat from her illness, and, for a few years, Corvo tried hard to be happy in a place he no longer felt entirely comfortable.

And then, after two agonizingly slow turns of the calendar, Corvo had ended up sent right back to Dunwall by Theodanis. Only this time he was to guard the Emperor's Daughter. His mother had passed not long after he left and whatever last lingering thread he had to Karnaca died with her.

Corvo had thought -foolishly, he now realized- his past as a Whaler would never come up when he was living in the Tower and focusing only on keeping Jessamine and later Emily safe. Now, not only were both of them gone, Corvo was with the Whalers again with his own mark, and a body abused worse than he could ever remember -including when he was a child. He was too exhausted and too hurt to properly function, but he tried to make his body do so anyway for his pride.

Much to his never-ending annoyance, Corvo didn't make it to the infirmary before his body just completely gave up on him. He wasn't even sure if Quinn had caught him before he hit the floor after he collapsed since it all went dark about halfway to the ground. All Corvo was really aware of was waking up in a bed some unknown amount of time later with bandages wrapped very snug around many parts of his body and blankets over top of him. Corvo kept his eyes closed at first and just listened. "-ealing fast, but then the mark is probably helping with that."

"How long do you think he'll be out of commission?" That gruff voice was unmistakably Daud. Corvo would recognize it anywhere.

"I'd like to give him at least a month to recover, but if he's anything like he was as a kid, I doubt I'll keep him down for more than a week." The tinny voice coming through the Whaler mask was harder to place from Corvo's memories, but eventually, the appropriate Whaler came to mind. Montgomery had taken over the medical responsibilities about half a year after Corvo had joined Daud's little band. "But, a week should be enough for bare minimum recovery," Mont added.

"How could they do this to him?" Quinn muttered from somewhere very close by. "I mean, he's Royal Protector that makes him one of them too, right? That would be like us torturing you, Daud."

There was an awkward silence after that question as everyone thought about if they could even do that. "It's not the same," Corvo finally said when even he felt uncomfortable with the tension.

"Corvo!"

Corvo opened his eyes and saw Quinn's face surprisingly close. He pushed Quinn away with one arm and struggled to sit up. "You should stay down," Montgomery said although with how nobody tried to push him back against the bed they must have realized it was pointless.

"How long?" Corvo asked as he rolled his sore shoulder, which only made it hurt worse, he noted. He couldn't even recall when he'd injured the damn thing. That wasn't as alarming to him as it probably should be.

"Two days," Quinn answered quickly. "We were going to have to wake you to at least drink and eat something here shortly."

"Speaking of, you should do that," Montgomery said before bringing him a glass of water. Corvo downed it quickly and coughed some as the tail end of it tried to go into his lungs. "Easy, guzzling it down won't help you. There's plenty more."

"Quinn, go get him something to eat," Daud ordered. Quinn began a protest but then Daud glanced his way, and the Whaler quieted. Instead, he nodded and Transversed off. There was an awkward tension in the room and then Daud sighed. "Montgomery, if you don't mind. I need to speak with Attano."

"A novel experience for you, I'm sure," Corvo couldn't help but say bitterly. He was vindictively glad when Daud stiffened, but somewhat disappointed nothing else came of it. One punch was not nearly enough to bleed off all the venom he felt towards the other man. Daud apparently wasn't going to indulge his need for a fight, though.

Montgomery did as asked and left the room. That only made the tension even worse, however. The two of them hadn't actually spoken (not counting that very brief confrontation when Corvo first arrived) in years, and Corvo certainly wasn't going to be the one to start it. Even if Corvo were feeling in the least amicable towards Daud (which he definitely wasn't), Corvo wouldn't have known what to say to the first man he'd ever loved. And been hurt by.

"We'll help you get her back, Corvo. I promise," Daud finally said after several minutes.

"I know you will," Corvo said. "Because, if you don't, I'll rip you apart an inch long shred at a time."

Daud studied Corvo for a long moment and then nodded. "You weren't supposed to have gotten caught up in all this-"

"So I was told," Corvo replied. "But oddly enough, that doesn't exactly make me feel any better!"

"No," Daud sighed, "I suppose it wouldn't." The silence between them returned only marginally less awkward than before. "I _am_ sorry. I don't deserve forgiveness, least of all from you, so I'm not asking for it. But I truly wish I could take it back."

Corvo studied Daud out of the corner of his eye and said nothing. He didn't have a response for that because all of what Daud had just said was true. Well, Corvo supposed that Daud could be lying about being sorry, but something in Daud's demeanor told Corvo that it wasn't actually a lie. It might have been genuine guilt, but Corvo had so rarely seen such a thing on Daud's face that he couldn't be sure. Daud wasn't one to feel guilty over his choices. He made them for better or worse and moved on. At least, the Daud that Corvo knew years ago did.

The silence lingered a while longer. "What do you know of Bundry Rothwild?" Daud asked.

Corvo's eyebrow went sky high. "The Slaughterhouse owner? Hardly anything. Why?" It seemed an odd question to ask out of the blue.

"While you were out, I got a report in telling me that he owns a ship. Called the Delilah. The Outsider pointed me in the direction, implying it has something to do with everything that's going on in Dunwall currently. I thought there might be some connection to the crown I wasn't aware of," Daud answered.

"None that I'm aware of," Corvo answered. "Did he say why 'Delilah' was important?"

Daud snorted. "Of course not. I _was_ rather hoping it had something to do with where Burrows was keeping your girl stashed away, but there's no guarantee of that."

"He might be keeping Emily in a stinking Slaughterhouse?" Corvo asked, enraged at the very idea of his daughter anywhere near one of those horror fests. Corvo had been in plenty in his life, and they made his stomach turn. He could kill a man easily enough -messily even- but watching as living creatures larger than anything were vivisected over the gore of others of their kind was a bit much. It would definitely not be suitable for Emily either.

Daud shrugged. "He could be. Burrows needs her safe and unharmed for their ploy to work but also not somewhere that people might find her. Not too many people would go wandering about in a place that reeks of dead and rotting whale."

Corvo frowned, it didn't quite seem right to him. Not that he could claim to understand the Outsider given his singular meeting with the deity, but something about it didn't settle in his mind properly. "Why tell you the name Delilah if the Slaughterhouse was the important bit?" he asked aloud.

"No way to tell until we find out what's so special about Delilah," Daud admitted. "It might be that the ship is where they're keeping Emily... a mobile hiding place might serve them very well. Or perhaps there's a meaning behind the name that we won't know until we get in there and find out from Bundry."

"And this is all assuming that it has something to do with Emily at all," Corvo said sourly.

Daud nodded. "But it's the only lead I have, so I'm going to run with it as far as I can."

"We," Corvo said instantly. "If Emily is there, there is no way I won't be there when you find her."

"And if she's not there you'll have pushed yourself for nothing," Daud replied. "You should stay here and recuperate."

"You don't get to tell me what to do anymore, Daud," Corvo sneered. "You gave up that right when you took your mark back and put me on a ship for Karnaca without a word."

Daud sighed heavily and dragged a hand over his face. "I was trying to protect you. You were just a kid-"

"I hadn't been a kid for three years. And you aren't that much older than me," Corvo snapped.

"You _were_ a kid," Daud snapped back. "And I should never have touched you when you were that young. And that drunk. It was an abuse of my authority and your trust. I couldn't keep you close after that. You deserved better."

Corvo stood up even though he was shaky on his feet. "I wanted you, and you wanted me. What is abuse about that?"

Daud was quiet for a moment and seemed to visibly force his temper back down. "Because I was your teacher. Your leader. I was trying to act like one and do right by you."

"By taking away everything in my life. Again," Corvo said bitterly. "I didn't want you to be some teacher mentor figure, Daud." What he actually had wanted he left unsaid since he didn't figure it mattered anymore. Daud hadn't let himself be that either. There was a long silence as neither backed down from their points. Corvo forced the issue out of his mind to allow something far more pressing than ancient history to be dealt with again. "I'm going with you to investigate this lead, and I don't give a _damn_ what you have to say about it."

"Even if it kills you?" Daud asked quietly. "Because it might. You're too soon out of Coldridge to be trying to pull any sort of reconnaissance. Much less get into any fights if they occur. I'd rather not be responsible for leaving your daughter entirely orphaned."

Corvo was quiet for a minute as he fought down his initial response to that. His defiant insistence that even as injured as he was he'd be able to do whatever he needed. It burned at Corvo to admit that Daud did have a point to his current state just as much as it burned him when he'd tried to lash out on the balcony when he first arrived. "Mont said a week. Is there any indication anything will happen between now and then?" he grumbled. Daud studied Corvo for a moment before shaking his head. "Then we'll go then."

Daud let the silence linger again. "I should try and talk you out of it," he muttered. "But you're right... I don't get to tell you what to do anymore. And as I said, they won't risk anything happening to Lady Emily. A week then."


	7. Chapter 7

Corvo spent only half a day more in the infirmary before he was moved to a separate room. Well, really it was an entire -if small- apartment. The apartment that they gave Corvo was high above the flood waters and across from the Commerce Building. The only not bricked up window in the apartment overlooked a rather depressing flooded courtyard that several river crusts were beginning to form within. They weren't large enough to be a danger yet, but the little beasts would have to be dealt with soon, Corvo thought. If he had his gun he'd handle it right then, but that was still probably locked up somewhere, and Corvo was in no condition to go searching. So, instead, he stared at an old half-crumbling and half-painted brick wall. Corvo didn't mind the lack of view though. The other option would have been being on the other side of the apartment building and having Jessamine's beautiful and larger than life face right there across from him. That would have been worse than the courtyard by far.

The one window in the apartment not blocked did let in a massive draft, but the heavy whaler coat that Corvo was again wearing kept him from being cold and the bedroom door kept out the breeze during the night -so long as Corvo dropped something across the base of it. Aside from the drafty window, the apartment was in reasonably good condition, which surprised Corvo immensely. He had been sure that every residence in the part of the city was entirely unsuitable to live in. That had been why the watch had evacuated the buildings shortly after the damns broke and the river flooded the area. Jessamine hadn't liked the idea of closing off the district and just letting it sit and molder, but the plague had been quickly sweeping through the more impoverished areas of the city by that time and that had taken precedence over the flood.

The apartment that Corvo had been given was well stocked with medical supplies and food, and the sink in the bathroom even worked -the one in the kitchen was actually missing from its spot, but Corvo didn't care. The first day Corvo had gotten to the apartment he hadn't even noticed the incomplete kitchen and just collapsed to the bed to sleep for nearly ten hours. When he finally woke up again it had been dark, but a note had been left by Quinn telling him that the kitchen was stocked with everything he could need. Corvo had wanted to devour everything in the cabinets, but his stomach had rebelled after only a few bites of real food, so he'd stopped before he made himself sick. The same thing had happened the day before with the food Quinn had brought him after he argued with Daud, but Corvo had choked down a bit more despite that just to not listen to Quinn's pestering. He'd definitely regretted it after the fact and spent most of that night struggling to not throw up.

Corvo sat on the ledge of the one window and stared out of it, lost in his own thoughts as the mutilated heart in his pocket thumped. There was something about the organ that greatly unsettled Corvo, and he didn't want to take hold of it. The Heart was surprisingly heavy on his chest although Corvo couldn't even recall putting it there. In fact, as he thought back, Corvo had no idea what he'd done with it after the Outsider had given it to him. He had come out of that... wherever it was that the Outsider had brought him and he had focused only on getting out of Coldridge after that.

When they'd given him fresh clothes, Corvo had not paid attention to where he'd put the thing. He had to have put it in his pocket, but Corvo would swear he'd done nothing of the sort. And then after he collapsed, they'd taken his clothes off to tend his wounds, and yet it was still with him? That didn't seem possible and yet, he woke up with the thing still on his person. The oddness of the heart always being with him even when he couldn't recall how it had gotten there unsettled Corvo immensely.

The Heart was far too persistent a hum against Corvo's chest, and he forced himself to put it to the very back of his mind until he could find some way to not be unsettled by the thing. Instead, he kept himself busy with running through everything he knew about the state of the Empire before he'd been arrested. Looking back Corvo could see all the sinister tendrils of Burrows woven into the government. All of the connections and suspicious conveniences that Corvo had just associated with Burrows' job as spymaster had clearly been something more. Corvo would have to pull all of those veins of corruption free after he saved Emily. It was an exhausting prospect, but it had to be done for Emily's safety; therefore, a duty Corvo would fulfill without hesitation. The problem occupying most of his attention at the moment, however, was that no matter how he racked his brain the name Bundry Rothwild just would not be linked to Burrows. Perhaps Burrows had used some middleman, Corvo pondered, but Burrows was a paranoid bastard even when not plotting Regicide so Corvo couldn't be sure that he would trust a middleman.

There was definitely something he was missing about the whole mess, and Corvo was determined to work it out. His eyes remained fixed mostly unseeing on the building across from his window where an old mural advertising Davidsons Wax had been half scraped off the bricks while his brain worked on the problem. Though even if Corvo had been paying attention, he wouldn't have actually seen the sun rising -the other building was in the way, and it was probably too foggy beyond that- but the sky was growing a lighter grey by the moment. Corvo sipped at the steaming coffee from the mug that he'd been continuously refilling since he'd woken up. Coffee was a luxury Corvo'd sorely missed in prison and was thankfully one of the few things his stomach wasn't uncomfortable with. It was awkward to hold the mug with so many of his fingers splinted, but he would have slurped in through a straw if he'd had to.

Though he was no longer paying the closest attention to the environment around him, Corvo was aware that the three Whalers that were positioned on the nearby roofs and balconies were still standing guard. He did idly wonder if they were there to protect him or to protect _from_ him when he'd first spotted them, but he also didn't care enough to actually find out. Corvo took another sip of coffee as he carefully shifted -although no position was particularly comfortable with his injuries. His shoulder was one giant pain no matter how he adjusted himself.

Judging by the tinge of grey still over everything, the sun hadn't fully broken free of the horizon when there was a knock on the door to the apartment just beyond the kitchen. Corvo contemplated not bothering to answer, but then thought that perhaps it was news about Emily, so he got up.

Corvo put his mug down on the small table against the wall of the kitchen as he passed and put his now free hand on the kitchen knife that he was keeping on his belt. They hadn't given him an actual weapon, but he didn't trust the situation enough to be unarmed around them. Corvo supposed they were probably wise to not give him a sword with that thought fresh in his head. The lack of trust gave him painful pangs in his chest, but he couldn't handle being betrayed again either. He hadn't liked Hiram Burrows at all, but Corvo would have sworn until he was blue in the face he was _better_ than these true colors he'd shone. That only made the sting of what happened catch Corvo more off guard and dig deeper somehow -not helped at all by the physical pain Corvo had endured. Another knock at the door was interrupted when Corvo turned the obnoxiously loose and therefore noisy knob.

When the door opened, Billie was standing there with her mask hooked on her belt and a less than impressed expression. Corvo didn't know Billie as well as he probably could have, but their circles hadn't intersected much when Corvo was a Whaler. Billie's ambition was always taking her out to do the hardest jobs and find leads and train day and night while Corvo was content with where he was and what he was doing. He kept busy, of course, but he'd been a perfect little follower for Daud and allowed the older man to tell him where to go and what to do. Corvo hadn't minded being directed by someone he'd -at the time- trusted with his life. Plus his teenaged libido had been distracted constantly by Daud at the time.

Corvo and Billie stared at each other for a solid minute before Corvo lifted an eyebrow in question. Billie narrowed her eyes just slightly, but Corvo wasn't about to be the first to talk. He was silent by nature and -even if he weren't- his throat still felt a bit raw from his tortures and he'd like to not strain it worse than it already was. "You really are still too quiet," Billie sighed and reached into her red jacket. Corvo wondered why she'd been allowed to wear that color. Back when he was a Whaler, only Daud wore red. Sure, it wasn't a _rule_ per se, but there was an odd, unspoken taboo around that color that kept everyone else from daring to dress in it.

A bundle of papers came out of Billie's coat, and she held them out. "Daud said to give these to you. It's all of our research so far on Delilah and the Slaughter House. Not much, but he thought you'd want to look at it before we go," she said.

Corvo took the small stack and turned it to the side so that he could estimate about how many notes and reports were there. Probably thirty some pages sparsely written on and folded up, he thought. "... done more with less," he said after a minute. Of course, he'd done more with less when he had the entire library of records and background information in the palace Archives to supplement it, but that wasn't really the point.

"You don't really need to go with us, you know," Billie said as she refastened the buttons of her red coat.

"If Emily is involved, I'm going," Corvo stated as he turned from the door.

"We don't know that she is, though," Billie said quickly. "Daud thinks she might be, but we're only guessing and grasping at straws here." Corvo paused halfway through his turn to glance more directly at Billie. "The Outsider didn't say anything about Delilah being involved with Emily. He didn't even mention her."

Corvo thought about that for a second. "He didn't mention anything to me about Daud either," Corvo said. Using something the Outsider _didn't_ say as proof to the negative seemed a bad idea. There was an awful lot of things that the Outsider didn't seem to say. "Do you have any other leads besides that?"

Billie pursed her lips together into a thin line. "No," she admitted after a minute.

Corvo nodded. "Then I'll take what you do have," he said. Corvo certainly wasn't going to sit there and do nothing until they had a definite lead on where Emily was.

"You're injured and out of practice with no guarantee that Emily will even be there. You should stay here and continue to recover," Billie said. Corvo paused again and turned fully to face Billie. He'd heard that particular tone before, but not in many, many years. The gruff harshness used to cover over concern was distinctive. The last time that Corvo had been addressed in such a way was back when he was in the Serkonian Guard as a recruit after the Blade Verbena, and his Captain was trying to make him 'take care of himself' as if Corvo didn't know how to do that.

"You can't talk me into staying here," Corvo said firmly. There was just no way whatsoever that was going to be happening.

Billie frown deepened. "You're a liability."

Corvo narrowed his eyes and reminded himself that Billie probably had no less than fifteen different weapons on her and he had a kitchen knife. "A liability. Really? You've seen me fight with injuries before, so don't give me that line."

"That was before," Billie said. _When you were one of us_.

"Yeah, I've had actual military training now," Corvo replied.

Billie looked distinctly unimpressed. "The Watch training program is a joke," she said.

"I wasn't talking them," Corvo said. "The Serkonian Royal Guard training program is a lot more rigorous. And even still, I went through ours."

"Our old one. It's been years, and we've updated it," Billie said. "We've gotten through your guards plenty of times."

Corvo felt his temper starting to rise and pushed it down. "Not when there wasn't a snake letting you in," he snapped. "I'm not arguing with you, Billie. I'm going."

Billie opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted, "Billie. Drop it."

Daud wasn't in Corvo's view, but his voice was rather unmistakable. Billie was still scowling as she gave Daud a murmured 'sir' and vanished halfway through a bow. Corvo waited and, sure enough, Daud stepped forward where Corvo could see him just a moment later.

There was a long, awkward silence. "If you were going to follow her you should have just brought this yourself," Corvo said, slightly raising the packet of papers.

"I wasn't following her," Daud denied. Corvo's eyebrow went up, but he didn't bother voicing he doubts aloud. That damned silence was back again that neither of them was willing to fill with idle chatter. Finally, Daud sighed. "Can I come in, Corvo?"

Corvo considered for a minute before easing back from the door. He wasn't afraid of Daud nor was he entirely unarmed, and besides that Corvo really doubted that Daud was looking for a fight after everything. Daud sat in the one chair in the room, Corvo recognized it as a deliberate move to make himself more vulnerable. Corvo wasn't sure if he appreciated the attempt or not. Corvo perched himself on the windowsill where he'd been sitting before and just waited for Daud to speak.

Daud opened his mouth but then seemed to think better of what he was about to say because he closed it again briefly before speaking, "The name Havelock mean anything to you?"

Corvo's eyebrow went up again. "Admiral Havelock? Met him a few times at some functions with Jess. Well decorated and respected. Why?" Corvo hadn't done anything with the man personally, but Havelock was high enough ranking to attend quite a few functions that Jessamine held. Corvo thought, for a terrible minute, this was yet another name that would have to go on his list but then Daud continued.

"He's gotten himself into a little bit of hot water with Burrows." Daud reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette. "Was very vocal about the Royal Spymaster suddenly sitting on the throne and said not enough was being done to find Lady Emily. Almost got himself demoted before he smartened up and held his tongue."

Daud's lighter clicked loudly in the silence. A moment later, Daud exhaled a stream of smoke as a sigh. "I've gotten three requests from Burrows to kill him already. Chances are I'll get more."

"So, why don't you?" Corvo asked before he could stop himself. His tone was too obviously bitter and angry. Corvo didn't want there to be emotion in this conversation. He was too tired to run through that gamut again with Daud.

"Because I know too much on Burrows now. He can't guarantee my silence, so he has very little to threaten me with," Daud murmured. "Not that that's stopped him, but they're particularly empty threats. But we're hardly the only assassin in this town, Corvo. You know that. If Burrows wants Havelock dead badly enough, he can just hire someone else to do it, even if it would be messier."

Corvo shrugged. "Why are you telling me this?"

"I've been considering going to Havelock... telling him to lay low for a while until everything gets straightened out," Daud said. "You'll need all the help you can get once you get rid of Burrows."

"Is he in immediate danger?" Corvo asked.

Daud shook his head. "I doubt it. Once I stop getting offers to kill him, then I think it'll be more dangerous for him. That's when Burrows will go to some other assassin for his dirty work."

Corvo thought about it for a few moments. Though he would like to protect someone who had been apparently showing enough loyalty to endanger himself, Corvo's first priority was -and always had to be- Emily. "Warn him when you stop getting requests," Corvo said. "Or take the job and just not kill him. That should buy him plenty of time." Corvo wasn't even sure why Daud had brought this to him. The only thing he could think of was that it _wasn't_ what Daud wanted to say. The Master Assassin had apparently changed his mind before talking, after all.

"What did you really want to talk about, Daud?" Corvo asked.

Daud was quiet for a moment before sighing out another stream of smoke. "I forgot how perceptive you could be..." he murmured. There was another lingering silence that Corvo wasn't going to be kind enough to break. Daud rolled his cigarette between his fingers for a moment before pulling something out of his coat and put it down on the kitchen table.

The something was a thin, short object wrapped in a dark blue -nearly black- cloth that had gold embroidery on it. Corvo's eyebrow went up. Daud gestured to whatever it was with an air of awkwardness. "I picked that up for you," Daud said.

"You can't buy your way into my good graces," Corvo said.

"It isn't like that," Daud denied. "I bought it... before," he murmured. "But I never actually got around to giving it to you, and it felt... wrong to leave it with you when you left."

"Were sent away, you mean," Corvo corrected.

Daud cringed slightly but then sighed and nodded. "Yeah... look, I know you think I shouldn't have sent you back home but I wasn't going to be like those men I found you with. You can't make me feel guilty about that," Daud said. Corvo said nothing since Daud seemed to be building to try and say more. The Master Assassin bought some time by taking a long drag of his cigarette. "I shouldn't have sent you away without saying anything at all," he finally admitted. "That was cowardly. But I know you, Corvo. There's not a more stubborn creature on this planet than you. And, while, most of the time I don't mind that, I couldn't let you be stubborn about that. You'd have fought tooth and nail to stay, even when you shouldn't have."

Corvo frowned, but he couldn't find fault with that reason. Corvo wouldn't have let things end without a fight. He'd wanted Daud for too long by that point that just allowing that one night fizzle to nothing wouldn't have been acceptable. Daud gestured to the cloth wrapped whatever it was. "Open it or don't, keep it or chuck it from the window, it's up to you. But I always had intended you to have it." Daud got to his feet and cleared his throat before adjusting his coat. "I'll send someone with any updates on Lady Emily we might get," Daud added before disappearing into a cloud of ash and shadow.

Corvo stared at the spot that Daud had fled from. Though the word felt odd to associate with the Master Assassin, Corvo really couldn't think of any better word for it than that. After several minutes, Corvo's eyes drifted down to the gift sitting there beside his now cold coffee.

Spite rose up instantly, and Corvo felt like chucking it out of that window like Daud said without even unwrapping it. That would serve Daud right, Corvo thought. But, Corvo was curious enough that he reached out and pulled back the dark fabric until whatever it was unrolled onto the table.

It was a folded up crossbow.

Corvo almost smiled but didn't. He hadn't used a crossbow in ages. He used to prefer them once upon a time. They were quieter, and he found them more accurate, both of which were important features. Corvo picked up the crossbow and unfolded the limbs and examined the weapon he'd unexpectedly been given. The black metal was matte finished so that it wouldn't reflect light in shadows and the dark wood handle was carved with intricate little curves and swoops. It was beautiful. Corvo wished Daud had given it to him before.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I was going to put all of Captain of Industry in one chapter but I changed my mind when I realized how DARK the interrogation is likely to get. Soooo be prepared for that!
> 
> Also... I have given in and decided to write a legit sequel to Littlest Whaler... it's only got a short prologue up right now but it'll have some fun moments later on with Grumpy Grandpa Daud and Gruff Auntie Billie taking care of Emily while Corvo freaks out.

In the end, Corvo didn't toss out the crossbow. It was quite simply too fine a weapon and Corvo didn't have any of his own gear anymore so discarding it would have been foolish. True, Corvo could have just used the wrist bows that were plentiful in the Whaler's supplies but he was already wearing one of the blue Whaling coats and carrying one of their swords on his belt, he didn't want to rely on even more of their gear than he had to. Corvo didn't even give in to the temptation to take any bone charms with him. If he needed an occult boost, he'd get it himself.

Corvo half-regretted his stubbornness later while he very much struggled to keep up with Daud and Billie as they made their way across the rooftops and a charm that boosted one's speed was chiming away back in the Flooded District. Though he did his best to not act like he was lagging, Corvo was constantly a roof or more away from the other two. Not only was running and jumping pulling at his not entirely healed wounds but Corvo's new and flashier Transversals -which he'd started calling Blinks because of said new features- didn't have as far a range as the others' did. That meant Corvo had to do about twice as many Blinks to make up the same distance, which was quite tiring.

But, despite the difficulties, Corvo managed to arrive at Slaughterhouse Row just a moment or two after Daud and Billie did. Habit wanted Corvo to stand tall and proud right there for everyone to see -to make himself the threat and therefore the target of any attacks. That was his _job_ to protect Jessamine and Emily just by being there. But now, not only was he not in the best condition yet for a fight, but he also had refused to wear the gas masks that the Whalers wore (for multiple reasons) and was currently one of the most wanted people in the Empire right there with Daud.

Being easily visible was the worst thing he could do right now, so Corvo pushed down the Royal Protector part of him and tapped the now little used Whaler part. Corvo crouched down on the metal grating to peer down Slaughterhouse Row for threats. There were more Watch around than he had thought there would be. But somewhat more importantly there was the familiar sound of discharging electricity down the row.

"Damn," Daud grumbled as the Arc Pylon sparked down the street. "Those Pylons are worse than the Walls of Light."

Corvo didn't bother agreeing aloud. He wasn't fond of either invention, which was why they had only been implemented in a few places back when Jessamine was alive. And even then those places weren't anywhere the general public would be to potentially be killed by the things -she had wanted Sokolov to create a less lethal setting for the things, but Corvo had no idea if that had ever happened. At least this Pylon would be easy enough to get around. The catwalks going from one building to another should be high enough to be out of the range of the electricity.

"There's apparently a worker's strike going on," Billie said.

"Well, that should mean fewer people in the factory to interfere," Corvo mused quietly. Less possible witnesses was always a good thing.

"True, but it also means that getting in is going to be harder," Billie said. "You can't get in the front door without a time card, and Rothwild's butchers are confiscating every one that they find. We'll either have to confiscate one _back_ or find another way in."

"There's always another way in," Daud said. "Let's worry about getting _to_ the Slaughterhouse first, shall we?" Daud and Billie both disappeared in a flurry of darkness.

Corvo saw Daud reform a little ways away balancing on some pipes that ran along the side of the building. Corvo wasn't sure where Billie went off to, but he doubted the woman went very far. In a flash of blue-white light, Corvo moved from his current perch to a few feet behind the already crawling Daud.

A watchman came out of the building right in front of them, and Corvo felt his heart seize up. He had _not_ realized that watchman had been in there and Corvo had very nearly cursed aloud before catching himself. Perhaps he was rustier than he'd thought.

Daud Transversed right behind the guard as he leaned against the railing and peered down at the street below. Luckily, the watchman was facing towards the Slaughterhouse and not where the two men had been crouching; otherwise, they would have been seen for certain. A quick arm squeezing around the man's throat and then Daud was gently lowering the man to the metal catwalk. Corvo carefully crawled over the other railing and slipped inside the building while Daud dragged the now knocked out guard behind some large bits of machinery on the roof.

Corvo mentally shook himself. He had to focus if he was going to be of any use. Corvo might be out of practice, but he spent years learning how to do this sort of thing -it should not be that hard to find his bearings again.

Despite Corvo's mental self-assurances, Daud gave him a few questioning looks as they made their way down the street to the Slaughterhouse. They perched on a roof and watched as a worker was turned away by the Watch that was posted outside. Corvo had to admit he was a bit annoyed to see the City Watch acting as security guards for a _Slaughterhouse_ when they should be trying to keep order and contain the plague. But clearly, Burrows had different priorities. Like keeping the wealthy in Dunwall happy with him.

"You're keeping up well," Daud said as they studied the layout of the area below and the wandering of the few people by the wall of light. Corvo looked over at Daud questioningly because _really_. Corvo knew he was probably slowing Daud and Billie down. "Considering your injuries and not having done this in over ten years, yes, you're doing well," Daud insisted.

Corvo harrumphed at that and spotted a balcony across the street that looked like it would provide an easy way over the wall. "Path of least resistance over there," Corvo said. Corvo disappeared in a flash of light before Daud could say anything in response.

The room he reappeared in was... unexpected. To say the least.

The room was like a ruin with peeling paint, vines growing all over about half of it, minimal intact furniture, and ragged area rugs dropped at careless angles and overlapping across the warped floorboards. Red lines and symbols were drawn on the floor. Corvo wasn't sure if it was blood or paint and he really didn't want to know for sure. Ignorance being bliss and all that.

As Corvo carefully moved around the room to examine a still burning stove with a pot of something foul smelling bubbling away on top, Daud appeared in the open doorway. Daud glanced around the apartment before stepping in -being just as careful as Corvo to not tread on the red lines all over the place.

Corvo spotted a paper and picked it up. "The port side eye of whale, newly dead. Plop it in the pot, grisly and red. Weeper, Weeper, weeps no more. Laid to rest on blood-etched floor. Do this for me dearie, and I'll give you a birthday treat. Granny," Corvo read aloud.

"Granny Rags," Daud said as his eyes swept across the room again. "Do you remember her?"

"Vaguely. I remember being told to stay away from her," Corvo said putting the note back where he found it.

"Isn't she over a hundred years old?" Billie asked from where she was suddenly standing on the balcony. Bits of darkness faded away from the edges of her body as she folded her arms across her chest.

"Those are the rumors," Daud said simply. Daud glanced around the room one last time before tilting his head to the side. "Let's go. Should never mess with a witch. Or any random rituals they leave sitting out."

Corvo glanced at the pot and note before following the other two out across the rooftops to enter the yard of the Slaughterhouse. Billie told Daud about some guy in a boat nearby, and he went off to go investigate while Corvo checked to see if he could find a secondary way into the building -neither objective took very long.

The announcements from the speakers came to life periodically. Corvo wasn't sure how to feel about the fact that one of those announcements was a public warning about himself and how he'd escaped Coldridge. They were acting as if Corvo was some crazed mass killer or something. Corvo put that out of his mind and focused instead on his search, pocketing a few bits of coins and valuables as he swept through the yard.

Corvo figured that going through the drains beneath the factory where blood and guts left was by far the least appealing way into or out of the place, not to mention the Arc Pylon they'd put on the dock above it for some bizarre reason. The next obvious entryway was on the entire opposite side of the building, but they had barely secured it. The cargo doors above the docks were easy enough to get to, although they had to knock out a few of the whale butchers that were wandering around. Otherwise, they wouldn't have been able to get the chain that they climbed far enough over to be of any use.

The smell of the Slaughterhouse was like a wall the moment they entered, and Corvo fought the urge to react in some way. He had smelled rot, blood, and gore before. Not even that long ago, honestly, but the strength of it in this place was to another level. The heat emanating from the machinery and radiating from the metal roof under the sunlight truly didn't help anything. That made the gore fester and stink even worse. Even this far away from where the butchering happened it was intense. Corvo had never liked Slaughterhouses, but Rothwild's was an entirely different league in terms of unpleasantness. Did he ever wash out anything? Corvo didn't know if hosing down the killing floor would help but certainly wouldn't hurt.

Billie formed from nothing just a few feet away crouched low. "Rothwild’s got a stubborn reputation. I doubt asking nicely is going to work. We'll have to find a more persuasive means of getting what we want. He should be near his office. We should check there," Billie said.

"Scout around, see what you can find," Daud said.

Billie nodded and disappeared again. "If Emily is here... you stay back. She'll no doubt remember you," Corvo said as they started through the slaughterhouse in search of Rothwild.

"I have no intention of doing something that'll make her more frightened of me, Corvo," Daud said.

Corvo narrowed his eyes a bit but focused on getting through the building. They had to drop down several levels to make it out of the warehouse, and they passed by several suspicious looking crates bound for Tyvia. One even had air holes in it so that if say, a person-sized living thing was trapped inside they wouldn't suffocate.

As they passed through different areas, Corvo noticed quite a few butchers still milling about. Several were toting giant saws powered by whale oil that was probably used for chopping through the unfortunate animals. "Those saws give them armor in the front... and a glowing weakness in the back," Corvo murmured as he and Daud stayed up high where they wouldn't be spotted.

"Best to not tangle with them at all," Daud replied. "We both have quite enough scars, I think."

Corvo didn't argue with that, and the two men found an easy way to the killing floor proper and then going up as high as they could. From their vantage point, they could make out what was most likely the administrative area and therefore the office. Billie was suddenly there beside them. "There looks to be a makeshift interrogation room in a meat locker. Might come in handy considering why we're here." Corvo couldn't quite help the shiver that went through him at the mention of an interrogation room, but he pushed that down ruthlessly. Whatever it took to get Emily safe.

When they found their way into the office, Rothwild was arguing with some woman. Corvo was not by any means interested in whatever melodrama was going on. He just wanted to find Emily. So, from his perch up above, he sleep darted them both. Corvo was glad he had thought to stock up on them, so he didn't feel in the least bit sorry for not saving them. "We could have gotten more information from them," Billie complained as she appeared between the two snoring bodies.

"The only information I care about is where Emily is," Corvo said as he dropped down. "And I doubt some random industrial worker is going to know that," he added gesturing to the woman wearing bloodied laborer clothes he'd darted.

"No point in arguing about it now," Daud said as he hefted Bundry Rothwild onto his shoulder. "Billie, where's this meat locker?"


End file.
